


I Wish I Weren't The President

by Amateur_Warden



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Eventual Reno/Rufus maybe, F/F, F/M, Gen, I am always a slut for Shinra, M/M, Slow Burn, The pairings are really subtle so u can get that gen-fic goodness, also Contains OCs that Probably Die Later just to fill in the void that is pre-Crisis Core, basically every Shinra character ever makes an appearance, like really really slow burn, repost from ff.net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 134,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9517625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amateur_Warden/pseuds/Amateur_Warden
Summary: Who exactly is Rufus Shinra? What happened to make him the cold-hearted, fear-mongering president that he is in FFVII? That's not his true face, I say. Basically "Rufus Shinra did NOTHING WRONG (he did everything wrong tho)". Rated T because some characters have no profanity-filter, and there's violence and Scarlet's existence is offensive. Chapter 14 coming soon.





	1. What Started It All

**Author's Note:**

> Ey, I love Rufus Shinra, so this is basically a character study of him and why he’s such a douchebag, and also an opportunity to give all of Shinra more screentime. A lot of artistic license during all the pre-Crisis Core chapters is used to fill in some things, but I didn’t do anything to the canon (except Sephiroth’s age. I may have messed that up and there is no way to fix it). This timeline sucks though seriously it’s a mess. This fic starts out when Rufus is like four and unable to have snarky conversation, so it’s mostly the Turks and their shenanigans. So I hope that’s enough to tide you over until Rufus grows up into a warmongerer with sociopathic tendencies.

President Shinra was a model leader, husband, and father. He held his company and his executives to a high standard of work, and made sure to be a very present employer. HOwever he also managed to spend time with his family, and included them in functions and public appearances. He both appeared to be, and was, a loving family man and a devoted leader.

 

Of course, it was never as simple as the public saw. The president and his wife argued, as married couples do, and there was the odd affair that went on behind the scenes and threatened to sully the family’s good name, but they made it a point to never let it ruin their marriage and their loyalty to each other. They worked out problems they had instead of breaking apart, all for the sake of the world, and for their son. And for it, their relationship was stronger than any couple who had never endured complications and arguments. The president and his wife brought out the best in each other, and together they brought energy and a better life to the people of Gaia.

 

Wutai wanted nothing to do with this company’s new energy, however. Well, most of the small country did. There were those who supported Shinra as well, but they were a minority. There wasn’t a single territory that unanimously supported or opposed anything, after all. However this caused so much controversy that people began to talk of war.

 

And then one day, there was an attack. The president’s wife was killed.

 

They had been out in the open at a public address, announcing the new SOLDIER program to the world. It was a risky move at such a time of strife, and Shinra had underestimated the threat. The president of Shinra Company was left with a country in outrage, and a four-year-old son who didn’t understand that his mother was gone forever.

 

President Shinra would ensure that he never made the same mistake again. Only the Goddess knew whether his actions would help the Planet, or do more harm than good. For one emotionally estranged boy, only hindsight can tell.

 

########

 

When the shot rang out during the address, the few SOLDIER at the event surrounded the president and immediately showed the world just what the program was capable of. They made a wall and stood ready to face any opponent, unafraid of any development, while the Turks rushed in to investigate from the shadows. They found the president’s wife fatally shot, presumably instead of her husband, and rushed the two remaining Shinras away from the public eye.

 

And that was how the commander of the Department of Administrative Research ended up handling a crying four-year-old.

 

He wasn’t even four yet, but that didn’t matter. The boy didn’t even know why he was crying, probably, and therefore there was nothing Veld could do about it as he rushed the boy back to his estate to be cared for by the nanny, until things calmed down. Maybe he would stop crying once he saw someone familiar.

 

He’d warned the president not to be out in public at such a time, but the man had insisted that it would be good for their image if he was the one to announce the new SOLDIER program. Veld had relented, trusting that nobody would go so far as to attack the man outright. That mistake had cost that poor woman her life. It wasn’t Veld’s first mistake, and it wouldn’t be his last. The best he could do would be to follow his orders and keep this insufferable child safe until Security arrived and he could go join his men in the field.

 

The boy had struggled fiercely, screaming for his mother as Veld whisked him away and into an unmarked car. It wasn’t equipped with a child’s seat, so Veld could only hope the boy wouldn’t wriggle out of his confinements and get himself injured. Luckily, the boy seemed content with merely sitting there and wailing away. He drove safely and inconspicuously, just in case. He told himself again that he would be free once Security took over.

 

He arrived at the estate outside the city shortly. It was easy enough getting past security with the president’s personal instruction, but getting back in after they closed the barrier would take a little longer. He didn’t mind if it meant keeping the culprits of the attack inside the city, and any other shady characters outside the city. He drove up to the gate and scanned his Shinra ID before heading through and into the garage. Then came the unpleasant job of removing Rufus Shinra from the car and taking him up to the house. He sighed, and held the squirming, wailing boy as gently as his could without dropping him.

 

He suspected that the nanny would hear Rufus crying and come running, but Veld hit the doorbell anyway. two seconds later, Yori tugged the door open, a worried expression on her young face. “Sir! Did something happen?” She assumed that if one of the Turks was holding her charge, and not one of his parents, something unexpected happened that was keeping the parents busy.

 

Veld couldn’t get a word in with the boy’s wailing (thankfully he had stopped squirming), so Yori quickly relieved him of his burden. When she saw the blood on the boy’s white coat, however, she looked up at Veld with terror in her eyes.

 

“He’s fine,” he said just loud enough to be heard, and Yori nodded stiffly and left to calm the boy down and clean the blood off of him. Veld gave her props for not losing composure and adapting to the situation.

 

Veld stood in the doorway, feigning patience. There was nothing he could do about the president’s irrational orders, no matter how much he wanted to argue and change the man’s mind. He was just a Turk. Turks didn't have opinions; they just did their job. If the president ordered him to babysit his son, then Veld would have to do so. His face twitched in frustration. He shouldn't be here, not now. He should be out leading the investigation. Otherwise, the culprit might get away. But he couldn't move; it was against his orders. And so, he coped with his impatience, and stood silent, unmoving.

 

It was about ten minutes before the girl came back out, wringing her hands in front of her nervously. She walked slowly towards the Turk, thinking of exactly how to word her question. She gave up on anything complicated, and simply asked, “What happened?”

 

There was no hesitation from the Turk, and no emotion in his voice. “There was an assassination attempt during the address today. The president's wife is dead.”

 

Yori's eyes widened, and she gasped. She was speechless for a moment.

 

Veld went on, “I have been ordered to guarantee his son's well-being. Is he safe?”

 

The girl’s eyes didn’t move as she answered, in shock. “Yes, he's sleeping. Oh...” She brought her hand up and ran her fingers through her hair, a pained expression on her face. “Who... who could have done this? His wife was a kind person, why would they want to kill her?”

 

Again, there was no hesitation. “It seems that she was trying to protect him. She must have seen the culprit before they took the shot, and got in the way.” He cursed himself, wondering how the woman had seen, and his Turks had not.

 

The girl's lip trembled as she fought off tears. She looked at the floor, holding her arms in front of her and shaking her head. “I don't understand... they're good people! Why would anyone want them dead?!” She lost the battle, allowing tears to stream down the sides of her face.

 

It was like this guy wasn't even human. “That's what we're trying to find out. The few Turks in the area are searching the city, looking for anyone suspicious.” He shifted in place, the only action that hinted any sort of unease he might have felt. “I am to remain here until more security arrives.”

 

Yori was silent for a moment. “How... how is the president doing?”

 

For the first time, the man hesitated. “He... he is quite well, given the circumstances. He is currently planning the funeral ceremony and the future of the company.”

 

Yori was a bit shocked. She probably thought it was too soon. Veld almost felt for her; the girl cared about the family like they were her own. “Is there anything I can do?” the girl asked.

 

The hesitation was gone from Veld’s voice as quickly as it had revealed itself. “The best way would be for you to stay here, and continue to fulfill your duties, until further notice.”

 

The girl looked up. “So... Rufus will be staying here, and I'm to care for him?”

 

“Precisely.”

 

Worry crept over the girl's face once again. “What... what kind of security will be here?”

 

The Turk shifted again. “There should be a few infantrymen coming for now. They have their own supplies and such, so you won't need to worry about housing or feeding them. If need be, more security will be provided.” As if on cue, a truck pulled up in front of the estate, and one of the said infantrymen jumped out of the back, shouting some orders. “It seems the time has come for me to leave. Good day to you, miss.” The Turk did a half-bow, and let himself out the door.

 

“Oh... how could this happen?” the girl asked herself.

 

########

 

Veld left the girl to her own devices as he trudged down the path away from the house. Two of the soldiers were already heading up to the house, presumably to confirm the safety of the people inside. They slowed their pace when they saw the black uniform of the Turks, whispering to each other.

 

“Hey, isn't that a Turk?”

 

“Heh, it looks like.”

 

“What the hell are the Turks doing here? This is our mission, it's our time to shine!”

 

“Well, I guess the Turks were called too. I mean, do you really think just the three of us can handle this?”

 

“Whose side are you on, anyway?”

 

Veld had noticed their semi-quarrel—it seemed a bit one-sided—and quickly tried to make his way past them to his transport down in the garage. He reached them in no time and turned to walk around them. “Excuse me--”

 

One of the soldiers—the more belligerent of the two—slung his rifle around from where it had been hanging off of his shoulder, and pointed it right at the Turk. “Hey man, hold it right there!”

 

The Turk stopped in his tracks, a bit startled at the fact that someone was pointing a gun at him. He looked at the culprit, and his eyes narrowed into slits. "Excuse me?" He said once again, this time with outrage.

 

"You know what, old man! I saw you just now, you came from the Shinra estate up there!" The grunt jerked his head towards the rather large house in front of him. "You look just a little bit suspicious to me. We were told to keep everyone away from this place, and that includes you. How did you get in here?!"

 

The Turk's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Was this a joke of some kind? What was the army teaching these kids, anyway? He looked at the belligerent grunt's counterpart, who looked nervously at the ground. His helmet covered most of his face, but the Turk could tell he was frowning. Veld closed his eyes, and said with distaste, "I was the first to arrive at the scene. I am no criminal. Now, I have a job to do, so if you'll _excuse_ me--"

 

"Look, bud, I have the authority to gun down anyone within fifty yards of the entrance. So you'd better tell me what the hell you were doing in there--"

 

"What the hell are you doing, private?!"

 

Both of the infantrymen jumped at the sound of their captain's gruff voice. The more timid of the two turned and snapped off a salute, with the other hesitating before following suit. "Sir! We were securing the perimeter, and we found this--"

 

The captain cut him off. "Do you have any idea who this is?! This is the leader of the Turks! Not only is this severe insubordination on your part, but he could very easily kill you. Both of you, get the hell out of here and check the rest of the perimeter!."

 

The timid grunt gave a respectful nod, then grasped his rifle and headed back down the path, while the other gaped at his superior. He ran after his comrade shortly after. The captain watched the two go, making sure they did exactly as he ordered. When he was satisfied, he turned to the head of the Turks.

 

"I'm very sorry about that sir. They're still rookies, so you can't really blame them. They'll grow up, I'll make sure of it."

 

The Turk narrowed his eyes; he didn't like the way the captain was using their inexperience as an excuse. This was an important mission, dammit! Why the hell were rookies sent in for a mission like this? He decided to call for backup as he left, forcing himself to calm his outrage at the sheer _nerve_ of some people. This low quality of work was common in the army, and it was something he would never accept.

 

The captain turned toward the house, where the cadets were splitting up and scouting for any activity. "We can handle it from here, don't you worry. You must be busy." He saluted the Turk, then headed past him, up the path to the house. Veld gritted his teeth, then resumed his stride. He pulled out his phone, flipped it open, and dialed a number, still heading towards the garage. "Hello, this is Veld. I think we'll be needing more troops here at the estate. The security here is… insufficient." There was a confirmation on the other side of the conversation, and he snapped the phone shut, shoving it back into his pocket. He reached the car, got in, and sped away with it. With any luck, the new SOLDIER would be stationed at the city’s barrier and not more incompetent infantrymen.

 

########

 

The door slid open to the Cadet’s lounge on the 65th floor, admitting three people. Two were boys, about fourteen years of age, with jet-black hair that reached their shoulders. One wore glasses, and held a sheathed katana in his right hand. The other wore his hair pulled back in a high ponytail, and held a handgun. As opposed to glasses, he had a small black dot in the middle of his forehead, resembling a tilak. In front of them, a girl of about ten years of age with reddish-brown hair held a large red shuriken in her small hands. All three of them were ruffled-looking and tired, as they had just returned from the training room on the same floor.

 

"Ah, thank the Goddess for air-conditioning!" Cried the girl as she raised her arms above her head, stretching, as well as narrowly avoiding the katana-boy's head with her shuriken.

 

"Hey, watch where you stick that thing! You almost cut my head off..."

 

"Aw, I knew your head was there, and that's why I didn't hit it!" cried the girl, once again. "Don't worry, I won't kill you unless it's on purpose." She flopped down on the sofa next to the window, setting her shuriken down on the table next to it. The boy with the katana looked at her with exasperation, and sauntered over to the armchair in the corner. The other boy pulled off his gun holster and sat down on the other side of the sofa, his head propped up on one hand with his eyes fluttering, fighting to keep themselves open and alert.

 

It seemed an argument was blossoming in the katana-boy's head. "Look, I don't trust you with that thing. I mean, you're a friggin' eight-year-old girl! You don't have the _experience_ to control it!"

 

"Okay, one, you're wrong. I'm ten years old. And two, it doesn't matter how old I am, I'm still the same _rank_ as you, _cadet,_ " the girl retorted. She folded her arms and rested her leg on the other, leaning backward.

 

The boy wasn't satisfied. "I'm still two weeks ahead of you..." he muttered.

 

The girl scoffed, but didn't say anything. The argument didn't last long, but it was bound to come up again. All three of them struggled to keep their eyes open, and were failing miserably. It wasn't fair that regular Turks got paid for their hours. The cadets were paid by the company, but it all went towards food and housing, which wasn't cheap. So they had virtually no extra spending money. They lived in the main building, all on one floor, where space was limited. With the two separate training rooms and lounges for both initiated Turks and cadets, along with the offices for the initiated Turks and the commander, there was only room for five cadets to have their own quarters. Someone would have to be initiated for another cadet to come in.

 

The girl sighed, and stretched her arms above her head once again, wincing slightly. She had pulled a muscle in her shoulder, and it was still irritated. She looked at her fellow cadet, the one sitting next to her on the opposite side of the sofa. His eyes were closed, but she could tell he was still alert. It seemed he never let his guard down.

 

It didn't stop her from trying, though. The sofa was large, but short enough for her to reach over with her arm, and attempt to poke the dot in the middle of the boy's forehead.

 

There was no hesitation. "Don't even think about it," the boy said calmly. The girl pulled her arm back, disappointed.

 

"You still haven't told me what it is," she pouted. "It's just begging to be poked, too!"

 

The boy cracked an eye open. “Can't you control yourself for even a little while?"

 

The girl smiled. "Of course I can. I just choose not to. It's a lot more fun that way, I've found." She crossed her arms again. "Geez, you're so vain..."

 

The boy sighed. "Maybe..."

 

They were silent. The boy was never really good for conversation, anyway. The girl looked away, staring ahead of her. The boy in the armchair was sleeping, it looked like. They remained like that until the girl got restless again.

 

"You still haven't told me what it is."

 

The boy's half-open eyes narrowed, if that was even possible. "Just leave it alone. You wouldn't understand."

 

"Try me," the girl grinned.

 

The boy sighed. "It's... sort of like a right of passage. I got it a year ago, when I turned thirteen."

 

"So you're fourteen?"

 

The boy looked at her. "Almost. In about a month, in fact."

 

The girl perked up. "Really? That's cool! See, that wasn't so hard! Now I know what it is, and I can get you a birthday present later!"

 

"Please don't, you don't have to..."

 

The girl didn't give up. "Just wait, it'll be perfect." She beamed. The boy just looked at the wall with embarrassment in his eyes.

 

The girl turned to the boy in the armchair. "Hey, Katana, how old are you?"

 

"Fifteen..." Apparently he wasn't sleeping at all. This guy never let his guard down, either.

 

"Really? You look about five to me."

 

"Hey, if I'm five years old, you're five _days_ old."

 

The girl jumped up, pointing at him. "Hah, wrong again! If you're gonna insult someone, at least do it accurately." She folded her arms in front of her, as she stood with her chest puffed out, looking as arrogant as a little girl could.

 

The boy opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Huh...?"

 

The girl smiled gleefully. "It's simple really. It's just a matter of proportions, that's all." The boy looked at her incredulously. "I'm ten years old, and you're fifteen, right? That means I'm two-thirds of your age. So if you're five, I would have to be at least two-thirds

of five years old, which makes me three and one-third years old. That's a lot more than five days, isn't it?"

 

The boy looked at her with his mouth hanging open. His eyes narrowed to slits as he shut his mouth, thinking of nothing to use as a comeback. How in the hell did a ten-year-old know proportions? What did they teach at that academy?

 

"Hah, I win again! First in training today, and now--"

 

"Okay, just shut up already!" The boy grumbled, then closed his eyes again, burrowing into the corner of the chair as far as he could go. Usually he wasn't this ill-tempered, but the lost training match had destroyed most of his patience with both himself and the little girl.

 

The door opened again, admitting the other two cadets. They both looked about the same age, around sixteen years of age. One was a girl with long, dark brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail. A few loose strands of hair that escaped her hair-tie framed her face. She held a collapsed metal rod in her left hand and she stepped into the lounge. "Would you guys be quiet? We can hear you all the way down the hall."

 

The other cadet, a boy with short, unkempt, bluish-black hair, looked at the little girl as if to agree with the one standing next to him.

 

The girl looked at the newcomers with a pleading smile. "Sorry, I was just excited..."

 

The older girl gave a sigh of exasperation. "Just be quiet. I've got a test tomorrow that could determine my future, so I'm trying to focus." She walked towards the other armchair opposite the first, and flopped down with a soft thud. Her eyes were shut before she sat down.

 

The older boy walked to the corner of the room, to the left of the cadet wearing glasses, and sat down against the wall with his head on his knees. The little girl with reddish-brown hair looked at him, curious.

 

"Rough day, huh?"

 

"You have no idea."

 

The girl sat back down on the sofa, sighing. "So, who won this time?"

 

"No one,” the older girl answered, wearily. “We tied. Again." Suddenly, she jerked her head up and clenched her fists. "It's so frustrating! What am I going to do if I can't even beat _you_? _"_ She cried, gesturing toward the boy in the corner.

 

Said boy barely responded. "If it's any consolation, I didn't go easy on you, and I'm just as tired as you are."

 

The girl put her head back down in her hands, rubbing her eyes. "That's no excuse. I've been here a lot longer than you have, and I'm _specialized._ I don't just pick up anything and learn how to use it in one day!"

 

"Hey, shut it. You're the one who's being loud, now." The katana-boy said, irritably.

 

The girl rubbed her temples. "I can be loud, because I’m the one with the test tomorrow. And besides, it's only afternoon. We haven't even been training that long!"

 

"Four hours is a long time, with you," said the one in the corner.

 

The girl's head jerked up, once again. "What, _now_ you're complaining?! You were the one urging the others to keep going!"

 

When the boy didn't answer, she jumped up. "Look, why don't we just settle this, right here, right now? I know you're not that tired. Get up."

 

"I'm tired."

 

"No, you're not."

 

"..."

 

The girl's face burned red with anger. "Fine, I'll force you up if I have to!" She walked towards him with murder in her eyes.

 

"H-hey, just calm down!” cried the little girl. “You're not supposed to fight in here! You guys will get in trouble!"

 

"Like I care--" Just before she reached the corner, a blade met her throat. She flinched as the cool metal just barely touched her skin,

 

"You're tired too. Why don't you go take a break, somewhere where you won't try to kill your own comrades?"

 

"Katana..." the girl glared at him. The boy in the corner stood up slowly, using the wall to help him. He raised his head, his dark burgundy eyes resting on hers.

 

"We agreed to finish it tomorrow. You should get some rest now."

 

The girl gritted her teeth. "I changed my mind." And with that, she smacked the katana away with her now full-length rod, while throwing a punch at the one in front of her.

 

The oldest boy grunted as he caught the punch, and attempted to throw the girl out into the middle of the room. The girl was faster though, and she caught his knee from behind with her foot, pulling him down to the floor and flipping him over onto his back behind her.

 

Before long they were both back up, the girl still on the offense, and the boy still on the defense. Katana had backed away, unwilling to get any more involved, with the little girl watching as her fellow cadets brawled, unable to do anything. "You guys! You can't do this! What if you get kicked out of the program, what will you do then?!" She pleaded, but to no avail. She gasped as the boy was thrown into the wall next to the sofa, over the armchair that Katana had been sitting in, narrowly missing the hard table. "Guys! Please! I don't want you to--"

 

"Veld, Sir!"

 

Nobody had noticed the door open abruptly, and the boy with the ponytail snap to attention. The little girl and Katana followed suit, leaving the oldest cadets to stare at the doorway, which housed their superior. Only the fear of losing her one and only job forced the older girl off of her victim, allowing him to stand as she snapped to attention.

 

The room was silent once again, as the head of the Turks scanned the newest members of the force. It was expected of these troublesome youths, actually. He had known them well enough to know how often they fought with one another. Though the thought only disappointed him even more. There were already very few Turks to begin with, and when they lost a particularly good one nine years before, there was no role model but Veld himself for the younger ones. Both he and Valentine had been the top two Turks, setting an example for the others. But when the latter was lost, everything went downhill from there. Now, as he saw his new cadets quarrel with one another, he wondered if there really was hope for the program anymore.

 

"At least one of you remembers discipline..."

 

All ten of the cadets' eyes were glued to their superior's, not daring to move. Was this the last straw? Were they all finished? The maddening fear in their hearts threatened to kill them if the suspense built up any more.

 

"At ease. If you'll allow me, I have some news to give to you."

 

The five pairs of eyes widened. Was there something wrong with him? Wasn't he going to fire all of them, right there?

 

"S-sir?" The little girl's voice rang out.

 

"You may wish to sit down. It isn't good news."

 

Oh no, here it comes... That's what all of them thought then. None of them sat though; they wanted to stand tall and proud In their last moments as Turks. Well, cadets, technically.

 

"I assume you all know of the event that went on today, the address. The president was to officially announce the SOLDIER program to the public, one that would help to protect the people of the world Planet than the army has ever done." The little girl nodded slightly, showing that all of them knew of what he spoke. "The address was successful. The populace now knows of the long-awaited SOLDIER that will protect them. However..." He paused. "There was an interference."

 

The cadets looked on with confused looks on their faces. Veld went on, ready to give the finishing blow. "There was an assassination. The president's wife was killed."

 

The eyes widened again, this time with a small gasp escaping the lips of the youngest cadet. "W-what?"

 

Just as he had with the young maid, Veld gave his answer with no emotion. 'It seems she was protecting her husband, and was not the actual target."

 

The silence was deafening. It was maddening.What else was there to say? The president's wife was dead now, and there was nothing he could do about it. The head Turk looked on, showing nothing of the frustration that was practically pouring out of him.

 

"W-why?"

 

Veld looked at the girl, her eyes wide and full of worry. He suddenly thought how young she was, and already having to deal with the disaster of war. At least, that's what he thought it was at the moment.

 

"That's what we're trying to understand. The few Turks in the area, aided by the army, are scouring the city for anyone suspicious, in hopes of catching the culprit. This is only my speculation, but there is reason to believe that Wutai was behind this."

 

The boy with the ponytail flinched. Wutai? Would they really do something this drastic, just because of some disagreements? What would happen to their relationship with Shinra, now?

 

"The president has decided that our security forces are too few in number, and thus, are in need of more members. It is a good time to be cadets, and experienced ones, at that. You all could expect a promotion very soon if my predictions are true."

 

All ten of the cadets' eyes widened both in surprise, and excitement. The moment was short-lived, however. They were probably thinking, was it really right to be celebrating at a time like this?

 

"However, we are in need of help right this instant. Because two of us are out on missions and won’t arrive in time, we are undermanned. Gun!"

 

The boy with the ponytail jumped back to attention. "Y-yes, sir?"

 

"As of this moment, you are a full-fledged Turk. Your first mission is to aid us with the investigation, and attempt to apprehend the suspect. I'll brief you on the way. Are you ready?"

 

The boy stared for a good few seconds before responding. "Y-yes, sir! I just need my weapon..." He turned, looking around frantically for his holster, with the others staring at him with both shock, and extreme envy.

 

The boy passed right by his holster a few times in his nervousness, and would have kept doing so if the little redheaded girl hadn't tapped his shoulder.

 

"Here you go, sir," she said, holding it out for him.

 

The boy looked at her with slight awe. She had just called him "sir." Why had she done that? Wait, he was a Turk now, a higher rank than her. It only made sense... ah, take it! He took it from her and strapped it around his waist. He looked up at his superior with nervous, yet determined, eyes. "I'm ready, sir."

 

"Good. Then let's move," Veld said, turning on his heel toward the door. He pressed the button next to the door, causing it to slide open. The new Turk behind him followed, stopping at the door. Veld hesitated before he walked through the doorway. "Oh, and one more thing for all of you." He looked over his shoulder, but failed to meet any of the cadets' eyes. "It would be in your best interests to remember your discipline, just in case the president no longer sees this program as an asset, and rather as a liability." He turned back around, and walked out the door, the nervous rookie Turk in tow.

 

The remaining cadets stared as the door slid back with its metallic hissing sound. It was all so much to process--the president's wife being killed, Gun's promotion, the threat of the Turks being eradicated... none of them knew how to respond. Eventually, the little girl stepped away, heading back to the sofa. The others took their places, save for the oldest boy, who took Gun's place on the sofa.

 

"Wow..." said the girl.

 

"I don't understand... We've been trying so hard to keep peace with Wutai. Why would they attack us?" said the oldest girl.

 

"Perhaps they finally got tired of Shinra trying to meddle in their affairs," answered the younger boy, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them.

 

They were silent once more. Why couldn't Wutai just accept that the rest of the world was evolving, and they were behind? Didn't they care that they were at a disadvantage without mako energy? Shinra was only trying to help them--why were they fighting so hard against it?

 

The oldest girl growled. "The whole thing is stupid. We're trying to help, dammit! Why don't they just accept us already?! Now they're causing even more hate and suffering because of their stubbornness!" She slammed her fist down on her leg, causing her to wince.

 

There was nothing else to say. The president's wife was dead, killed out in the middle of the city, in broad daylight, while they were screwing around in the training room. They hadn’t even known because they never looked at the news boards. The older girl leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and hanging her head. "If only we weren't fucking cadets. Stupid, weak, lazy cadets..."

 

The youngest was silent, for the first time it seemed. Her eyes did nothing to contain the sorrow, sympathy, pain, and anger they held. The others had never really seen her angry before. Her bottom lip quivered, her lips separated by a sliver of space. The oldest boy looked at her, almost as if asking her what to do next.

 

Suddenly, the little girl jumped up, breathing hard, and darted over to the side of the sofa. She grabbed her shuriken, and headed for the door.

 

The other looked at her. "Where do you think you're going?" asked the older girl, almost apathetically.

 

The young girl spun around, a determined glare in her eyes. "To train. I don't want to stay a stupid, lazy, incompetent cadet forever, you know." She stood there as the others watched her. She looked at the floor, uncomfortably. "Besides..." She looked back up at them. "I'm not gonna let Gun pass me up for long! I'll be a real Turk in no time!" She spun back around, punched the button, and ran out the door and down the hall.

 

The others watched as the door closed with that familiar hissing sound, both awe and confusion plastered on their faces. She did have a point. They were behind now, and not only that, but they could all be fired if they didn't prove their worth. The older girl stood, brushing off her shirt, and holding her rod with a death-grip that turned her knuckles white. The boys did the same, Katana strapping his weapon to his belt. The girl smirked, and swung her rod up to rest on her shoulder.

 

"Well, I know I'm not gonna let _her_ pass me up. No way." She waltzed over to the door, pressed the button, and left, the others following close behind her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I killed wifey. We don’t know anything about how/when she died, so I took the opportunity to tragically kill her off. To be clear, Rufus probably would have turned out the same if she hadn’t died because Shinra sucks the life out of people. How sad.
> 
> Is Tseng from Wutai? What is his real age? We just don’t know. I picked a headcanon and stuck with it.
> 
> Two OCs were harmed in the making of this chapter. They don’t exist starting in Crisis Core, so I wonder what will happen to them fourteen years from now? Maybe they go on vacation :) Obviously this will be a recurring theme, me creating people solely to fill the void that is the pre-Crisis Core timeline. Hope you enjoy them while they last.


	2. Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veld suffers, Tseng suffers, there’s an annoying kid, and everyone is an idiot. The four-year-old at least has an excuse. Enjoy!

He had to fight to keep up with his superior as they rushed down the hall to the elevator, all the while making no conversation. The young Turk followed his commander into the elevator, standing beside him at the back. His hands shook as he grasped them together, fighting to keep his anxiety under control. This was his first mission. He was finally a Turk, a _real_ Turk. It was almost too hard to believe. It was crazy. Why would Veld pick _him_ to be the new rookie, instead of his more skilled and experienced counterparts? He had arrived only a month before Katana, a full year after the older two cadets. It didn't make sense... He shuddered to think about what would happen if he messed up. What would the others think of him? What would Veld think of him? What if the president got fed up with his incompetence, and dismissed the entire Turk program? It would all be his fault. He felt a pang of regret--regret that Veld would choose someone like him to represent the Turks. Someone from Wutai.

 

That was the biggest shock. Why would Veld choose him? He had said so himself that Wutai could have been behind the attack. So why would he promote a Wutaian to the Turk ranks? It didn't make any sense. Not only that, but why would Wutai attack? Didn't they know that they'd be utterly and completely decimated if they went up against Shinra? While all of these thoughts bounced around in his head, he failed to notice his commander trying to get his attention.

 

"Rookie!"

 

He jumped, cursing himself.They hadn’t even gone anywhere and he’d already messed up. He forced out an answer. "Y-yes, sir?"

 

Veld glared at him. "Pull yourself together, before I regret promoting you."

 

 _You don't already?!_ the young Turk thought to himself.

 

Veld paused before going on. "I was about to brief you on the mission. It would be best that you listen carefully and follow directions to the tee, to prevent any complications." The boy mentally slapped himself for his nervousness and lack of attentiveness while his commander continued. "We have currently three Turks on the job, with the help of the army. That's clearly not enough to cover all of the sectors. You will head to sectors 4 and 5, and report anything that looks suspicious. If you encounter anyone particularly uncooperative, arrest them and hand them over to the nearest infantryman. Be cautious; try not to hint that you're from Shinra. They'll have a problem cooperating after hearing that. Try to get as much information as possible before they learn that you're a Turk."

 

The boy looked down at his clothes. Would he be getting a uniform before heading out? No, there probably wasn't any time for that. He'd have to go wearing the clothes he had on. Hopefully they would think he was a normal concerned teenager from the upper Plate, wearing a school training uniform. He nervously pulled his jacket further down over his gun holster, hoping nobody who wasn’t supposed to would notice.

 

"You will receive a uniform later, but for now, you'll go as you are." Tseng gave himself a mental pat on the back for thinking ahead. “You might need to mess up your attire if you head down into the slums, or nobody will take you seriously.”

 

Tseng frowned. He’d have to ruin it, Veld meant. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to head down there. He was nervous enough just investigating the Plate.

 

"This is what you'll use to report in." Veld held out a black flip-phone to the boy, who stared at it. "Shinra only provides one; the rest come out of your paycheck. So don't lose it." The boy took it gratefully, flipping it open. "If you'll take a look at the screen, you should have a new message. It's from me, giving you the mission details. You can check them if you forget." The boy dearly hoped that didn't happen. He viewed the message, but closed it after seeing it was exactly what Veld was telling him presently. He found where to read his messages, and how to send them, and closed the phone, dropping it safely into his pocket.

 

The elevator reached the bottom, the doors sliding open with a metallic clanking sound. The two Turks exited, heading for the main exit that would let them out of the building, into the city. The younger one followed his leader out the doors and into the darkness of the afternoon. He looked up at the sky, seeing nothing but a huge, black cloud. Virtually no light broke through it to illuminate the busiest city in the world.

 

"You should head to Sector 4, then to Sector 5, then report in if you find nothing. I'll tell you exactly what to do after that. Do you know how to get there"

 

The boy's eyes widened as he realized he had no way of knowing that. He spent most of his time around the Shinra building, considering his profession, and had never taken an opportunity to explore the city. He shook his head, disappointed in himself.

 

"No matter. Just head South, in the other direction. It's the bottom two sectors, with Sector 4 being East of Sector 5. Understand?"

 

The boy thought for a bit. He drew a picture in his head, visualizing what he'd just been told. It made sense. "Yes, sir."

 

Veld nodded. "Good. I'm afraid I cannot accompany you. Please use your best judgment and complete your mission with as much efficiency and caution as you can. If you encounter any other Turks, you are allowed to share information with them. However if you are unsure as whether to trust them of not, don't. Have you met any other Turks?"

 

"No, sir."

 

"Well then, I advise you to keep to yourself, unless they give you definite proof of who they are. Use your best judgment. And now, I must leave you here. I assume your mission is clear to you now?"

 

The boy thought before answering. Was he really up to this? He'd never been in any serious battles--what made Veld so sure that he could take it? He was nervous, and inexperienced. Why the hell would Veld trust him with something so important?

 

Then he thought, that was just it. He didn't need to know _why_ Veld would trust him with anything, just that trusted him. Veld was Veld, and if he trusted you, everyone did. Apparently there was something that Veld liked about him, enough to give him this mission. The thought practically washed away most of the boy's anxiety, leaving him for the most part, confident.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Good. Then I'll leave you. Oh, and one more thing. What is your real name?"

 

"S-sir?" The boy asked, confused. He wasn't supposed to give his name out to _anyone_ in case they found out his profession. That was standard for all cadets.

 

"Your real name, what is it?"

 

They boy hesitated. He could trust the head Turk, right? "... It's Tseng, sir."

 

"Right then, Tseng. You can either go on using your alias, or you can go by your real name from now on. I trust you'll take responsibility for anything that may happen as a result of your choice, like any good Turk."

 

The boy thought for a moment. Could he really...? To be honest, he hated his alias. It was just so... generic. And what if he learned to use other weapons than just a plain Gun? He figured he could handle a few people knowing his name. "I'll use my real name, sir."

 

"Good. Then you'll be known as Tseng from now on. Be careful, though. Don't advertise it that you're a Turk. Now, good luck, rookie." He turned, heading back into the huge seventy-story building.

 

Tseng looked at his commander as he walked away, leaving him alone in the huge, bustling city. This was it. He was finally a Turk, on a real mission. He was going out to catch a murderer, to protect the people of Midgar, to do what he'd always dreamed of.

 

He was ready. He set out into the city, ready for anything that might come at him.

 

\---

 

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

 

He stood in front of the huge metallic desk in front of him as the president sat behind it, his head in his hands.

 

"I did..." The man said without moving. He was breathing slow, deep breaths, as if to keep them under control. "How is the investigation?"

 

"The army and the Turks have been dispatched to search the city, as you ordered."

 

"And the find?"

 

"There is none, at the moment,sir. It's only been about an hour, at the most--"

 

The president jerked his head up to glare at the Turk. "I don't care _what_ you have to do, I want them found! Why is it taking so long?! You're Turks, right?!"

 

Veld stood stiff, taking whatever abuse the man might throw at him with no response. "There are only four Turks in the area, sir. The rest are coming from Junon, which may take a couple hours. We're doing all we can." He didn't add that _he_ should be out helping as well.

 

The president regained what little composure he previously had, and put his head back in his hands. "You said you had speculations as to who could have done this."

 

Veld shifted uneasily. That's just what they were, _speculations._ They may as well be guesses, for all the information they had. "I believe the most likely suspect would be Wutai, sir. There's been tension between them and Shinra for years; it makes sense that they would turn hostile after all this time."

 

The president scoffed. "I knew it..."

 

The Turk didn't want it to stop there. There was to much at stake for the president to make a decision right now, "There are other possibilities, though. Wutai wasn't the only country we had trouble with. There might be a group out there who wants to destroy Shinra even more than they do."

 

"Like who?"

 

"... I'm merely stating that there are other possibilities. You shouldn't make a decision based solely on speculation, sir." He mentally kicked himself for advising the president. That wasn't his job; he was just a Turk, just another part of the tall and treacherous Shinra hierarchy.

 

"I trust that you make more than guesses, Veld. I'll take that into consideration. What about SOLDIER?"

 

"You mean the new SOLDIER, correct?"

 

"Yes, the program announced today. Should I deploy them as well?"

 

Veld almost deadpanned. Had the president not deployed them, yet!? He forced the dangerous emotions away and spoke calmly. "I think you should use Shinra's resources as efficiently as possible, sir, and that means SOLDIER as well. It would be best, in my opinion, if they were placed outside the city, to keep anyone from escaping until we find the culprit."

 

The president raised his head. "You think so?"

 

Veld nodded. "It would raise the chances of our mission succeeding, sir."

 

The president thought for a moment. His face contorted as he thought, struggling to make a decent and intelligent decision in his current state. "Right, then." He pressed a button on the phone on his desk, probably an intercom of some kind. "Heidegger, deploy all available SOLDIER to the outside of the city at once. I don't want anyone escaping." There was an affirmative, and the room was silent once more. Veld stood stiff, as usual, while the president massaged his temples.

 

"What of my son?"

 

"He is at home, with security patrolling the house."

 

"What about the maid? Is she there?"

 

"Yes. She is caring for him at the moment."

 

The president was silent, thinking once more. Veld could do nothing unless he was ordered to, not even move. Suddenly, there was a vibration in his pocket. Someone was reporting in. It was in his duties to take calls, so he pulled his phone out and flipped it open, and accepted the call. "Have you found anything?"

 

It was Tseng. The boy sounded winded, as if he'd been running. "I don't know, sir. I searched everywhere in Sector 4, but there was no one who seemed to know what was going on. It was pretty much the same in Sector 5. Nobody's been particularly helpful..."

 

"You've searched everywhere?"

 

"Yes, sir. Every house, shop, alley, everywhere."

 

Veld frowned. He had expected this. "Make your way down to the slums. The others might already be down there. Nothing was found on the plate, but they may have run down into the slums to hide until they can escape. It will be difficult, but look everywhere down there."

 

"Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

 

Veld closed the phone, pocketing it once more. He should really be leaving, and leading the investigation. He should be out doing _field_ work, not standing around behind the scenes!

 

"Still nothing?"

 

"No sir. My subordinates are heading down into the slums. I suggest you order the army to do so as well."

 

"Right..." The president pressed the button again. "Heidegger. Send the troops that are searching the city down into the slums, but leave a few to guard the Plate." There was an affirmative on the other side. The president folded his hands in front of him, looking at them.

 

"You said my son is safe, correct?"

 

"Yes sir."

 

"... I want you to bring him here."

 

Veld was confused. "Sir?"

 

The president glared at him. "You heard what I said. I want you to bring him here. Tell the troops there to return to Midgar and report to Heidegger, on my orders. If they give you any trouble, just kill them."

 

Veld was shocked. The president didn't usually give such demanding orders. And his son was safe where he was... "Sir, I think it would be best if your son stayed out of Midgar. If he were to be discovered--"

 

"I don't give a damn what you think, Veld! I want my son here, where I know he's safe! I don't need to hear what _you_ think is best for him."

 

 _Then why were you asking for my opinion, earlier?!_ the Turk thought. He answered, tentatively. "Sir... perhaps the infantrymen could bring him when--"

 

"No, I want you to bring him. I don't trust those incompetent fools," he the president said with distaste. "I want the utmost certainty of my son's safety. I'm placing him in your hands, and I expect him to be your _top priority._ Do I make myself clear?"

 

Veld was silent, hesitant. He wanted to refuse, to run out and help his comrades, to yell out in the president's face that he was being a fool, that if he could just go out and help with the investigation his son would be safe anyway! He wanted to hurt the man before him, to punch some sense into him, to tell him to go home to his son and leave the investigation to the Turks. He wanted all of these things; and yet, he would get none of them. He was a Turk, and Turks did what they were told, and nothing else. He clenched his jaw, bitterly accepting his instructions.

 

"Yes, sir. I'll go retrieve your son, and bring him here."

 

"Bring the maid, too. I need her as well. Bring them here, to my office."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

The president nodded. "Good... then you're dismissed."

 

" _Thank_ you, Mr. President." The Turk did nothing to hide his distaste as he turned and walked out of the room. That small show of frustration wouldn’t get him killed, he was sure. He had a job to do, and the president needed him. Like the president said, Veld would do _anything_ to find the one who murdered the president's wife. Because that's what Turks did. They got the job done, no matter what. He made his way to complete yet another pointless and possibly detrimental task set on him by President Shinra.

 

########

 

Tseng hung up just as he saw a shadow dart past him into an alleyway. His eyebrows furrowed, and he walked slowly towards the alley. He made no attempt to pursue the shadow, for he had already checked it before, and found it was a dead end. He crouched slightly, hugging the wall in case the shadow decided to come back out and play.

 

 _Well, this is going to be fun. I get to chase shadows all day, right?_ Tseng was not amused. He'd been doing this for a grand total of twenty-eight minutes; chasing shadows, that is. There was nothing else to chase. The crowded and busy city of Midgar had been knocked out of existence and replaced with one full of dark alleys and rats. There were hardly any people around anymore. What had they done, gone home? He checked the houses, too, but nobody knew what he meant by "anything suspicious." So he was getting nowhere up here. But he had to check _everything_ , including alleys that he had checked once before, but now look suspicious again.

 

He looked around the corner into pure darkness. If something ran in there, he couldn't see it now. He stood up, revealing himself to whatever had run into the alley. It was a stupid move, but he was desperate. And he paid for it, too. A cold liquid squirted into his face, stinging his eyes and filling his mouth. He jumped back, coughing and spitting, expecting something lethal.

 

"Hah-HAH, I got you!" A boy with a toy squirt gun jumped out of the darkness, giddy with joy.

 

Tseng wiped his eyes, struggling to see his assailant. He glared at what he saw. "What are you doing here?" he politely asked. Hell, talking to a kid was better than to a shadow, right? Maybe he'd get somewhere.

 

"I was following you! You were a perfect target." The little boy gave a wide, toothy grin.

 

Tseng stared at the boy incredulously. He was being _stalked?_ By a _kid?!_ Impossible! He was a Turk, for Gaia's sake! The kid looked about six, that was _impossible._

 

"You have a dot on your head," the boy said, with wide, concerned eyes. “Someone could shoot it!”

 

Tseng flinched. _Keep calm, he doesn't know... he doesn't know better... don't kill him for something stupid like that, you have your pride.. just ask him if he's seen anything!_ Tseng smiled. "I’ll watch out for people like that. You wouldn't happen to have seen anything weird around here, have you?"

 

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Well, _duh_ , all the people are gone! Where did everyone go?!" He looked around, confused.

 

Tseng's eyebrow twitched. He was still getting nowhere. This kid was a waste of time. Time to go--

 

"I saw a guy though, he was being mean to people and being loud… He doesn’t live here, so I thought he was weird.”

 

Tseng stopped. "What did he look like?!"

 

The kid grinned. Then he stuck out his palm. He was six, and he was asking for something in return. What did they teach kids down in the slums!?

 

Tseng wanted to punch this kid. But he wouldn’t. "I... don't have anything on me--"

 

"Yeah you do, you work for Shinra!"

 

He flinched again. How the hell did this kid find that out? "Who... are you?"

 

The kid frowned and shook his head. "I asked you first!"

 

Tseng frowned with him. The kid hadn’t asked anything, but whatever. "... Yes, I'm a Turk."

 

The kid lit up, as if he hadn’t been sure before, but Tseng had just confirmed it for him. Tseng cursed himself. “You have any materia?”

 

Tseng hesitated, then reached into his pocket, grasping the one materia he had. A mastered Cure. The kid saw his pained look. "You got one, right? What is it?"

 

"Cure."

 

"Great!" The boy fist-pumped the air. “I'll take it!"

 

Tseng glared at the boy. "It's mastered. It's worth more than a few words of information."

 

The boy perked up even more. "R-really?! Hey, if it's not worth it to you, then..." He started to walk away.

 

Tseng's eyes widened."H-hey, wait! I'll give it to you!"

 

The boy stopped, turned around, and held out his hand expectantly.

 

Tseng frowned. "Alright, but if you try anything--"

 

"I won't! I promise!" He held out his hands and Tseng dropped the small orb into them. He grinned, then crouched down to pull up his pant leg. There was a long gash that ran from his knee to the middle of his shin, and it was bleeding. Tseng winced. Did kids just run around with wounds like that in the slums? The squinted, and the orb lit up for a second, green light engulfing his wound, then fading. When it was gone, so was the wound. Tseng was amazed--usually people had to train to use materia, but this kid used it like a master.

 

"Wow, it really works!" Cried the boy. "The guy had red hair and glasses."

 

Tseng stared at him."Is that all...?"

 

The boy shook his head. "He was wearing a silver cross and a red and white shirt with stripes. And his boots were awesome..."

 

Tseng furrowed his eyebrows. "Anything else?"

 

The boy shook his head. “Are you looking for him?”

 

"Yeah."

 

The kid smiled. "I hope you find him! He was creepy... I gotta go, bye!" He ran down the street and around a corner, out of sight.

 

Tseng watched as he ran, thinking to himself. _I just hope he was telling the truth..._ He turned and ran the other way, to find a way down into the slums.

 

########

 

The president sat with his head in his hands. It seemed he'd been doing that for days, when really it had been just been a couple of hours. Right now, time didn't matter. His wife was gone. He had nothing left... except Rufus.

 

He clenched his fists against his head, pulling his hair. That boy was all he had left. Half of his family was gone, half of his heart torn out from him and thrown away. His love, his love for anything it seemed, was dead, along with his wife. All he had left was Rufus... He unclenched his fists. Well, there was that _other_ boy, but he was nothing. Just a mistake, a product of his former self's uncontrolled irresponsibility. There would be no more mistakes, he would make sure of it. He would make every plan fool-proof, so that even an idiot could understand it. He would keep his son locked up with the highest security possible, so he would be safe, and then he'd find whoever killed his wife, then he'd send his beloved SOLDIER to go destroy Wutai... perfect. There wasn't a more perfect plan anywhere.

 

Whomever had done this would pay, dearly, with the lives of their children, parents, grandparents, grandchildren, and everyone close to them. But until they were found, until he received a report from Heidegger or the Turks, there was nothing he could do. All he could do was wait for Veld to get back with Rufus. He couldn't think of anything to do until then.

 

But what would he say to his son? Would he just tell him his mother was killed, and she was never coming back, and then send him to his room? That was cruel, no matter how the president felt at the moment. He may have been heartbroken and full of despair, and lost, and confused, but he would keep his head on straight and figure out what to do like a good president.

 

But he was angry.

 

He was infuriated, enraged, maddeningly furious, almost to the point of insanity. He wanted to find whoever had committed this heinous crime, and destroy them. He wanted to put a bullet in their head--ten, _twenty_ bullets would be better. He wanted to skin them alive, and hang their mangled body from the roof by their ears. He wanted to rip them limb from limb, then finish off the interrupted parade with their head on a pole in the middle of the city. Then he wanted to burn up what was left of their body and scatter the ashes over raw and bloody meat, to be thrown into the ocean and eaten by sharks. All these thoughts he thought with no regret; that's just what they were, thoughts. He couldn't do anything, yet, not until the culprit was found.

 

He wanted all of these things. But most of all, he wanted his love back. He wanted to see her warm, smiling face, to hear her melodious voice laugh and say his name. He wanted to run his fingers through her dark, silky brown hair, and feel her fair skin that seemed to glow. He wanted to lose himself deep into her piercing blue eyes, her tiny mirrors that reflected the good in anyone who looked in them. He wanted them so badly--

 

Brrrrrriiiiiing. Brrrrrriiiiiinnnnnng.

 

The president took a break from his mental escapades and answered the phone with an impatient tone. "Yes?"

 

There was a husky, gruff voice on the other side of the conversation. "Just reporting in, sir. SOLDIER has been stationed outside the city, and no interesting reports have come in. If they're still in the city, they're not getting out."

 

The man's brow furrowed as he thought. He supposed that was a good thing. He trusted that no one would get past the amazing superhumans created by Shinra's science department. The head of Public Safety Maintenance finished his report and went back to his job. Well, that was uneventful. If something didn’t happen soon, he was going on a killing spree.

 

But then he thought, what if they had already escaped? What if he had deployed SOLDIER too late, and the murderer and their cohorts were long gone by now? His hand flinched, and he curled his fists into tight balls. He breathed harder, resisting the urge to scream. If only he hadn't been so _stupid_ , he could have sent out every available force Shinra had, and caught the bastards. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

 

"Shit... shit, shit, shit, s _hit!_ " He yelled, slamming his fists down on the desk. He wanted to cry, but no tears came out. He just sat there with his shoulders jerking up and down, sobbing with no sound escaping his lips. He had cried too much already. He just couldn't do it anymore.

 

There was a buzzing sound coming from the door. He jerked his head up, trying his best to plaster an indifferent look over his vulnerable state. He stood, standing to the left of his chair, and brushed his suit down, and fixed his tie. The same tie that she had tied for him that morning... He winced. "Come in." He said it with little emotion, just a slight quiver in his voice.

 

The door opened, and three people walked in. One was Veld, as emotionless and stern-looking as ever. The next was a woman, more like a girl, with dark hair and almond-shaped eyes. The last was a boy, with short blond hair and wearing a bleached white suit, holding the young woman's hand. He tried to pull away and run to his father, but the girl held on and quietly asked him to behave and wait.

 

The president stared at them for a while before saying anything, barely masking the pain roiling inside of him. "Veld, were there any problems on the way?"

 

The other man shook his head. "None, sir."

 

The president looked at the floor. "What about the investigation?"

 

The Turk frowned slightly, though it was hard to tell if he was frowning, or just wore a straight face. "Nothing as of now sir--"

 

Veld’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He whipped it out as the president looked on, impatiently. The girl and the little boy looked also, curious as to what was so urgent at the moment. The man answered. "What is it?"

 

There was heavy breathing and rapid footsteps on the other side. "I think I've found someone, sir. But I... I'm losing him--"

 

"Where are you?"

 

"Sector 5 slums, headed... towards Sector 4."

 

"What does the person look like?"

 

There was a pause, which was filled with a sharp snapping noise and a curse. "Male, red hair, and glasses..." He paused, gasping for breath. "A striped shirt, and a cross around his neck. Oh damn--"

 

Veld hesitated. "I'll alert the others. What just happened?"

 

There was a pause. "A dead end... I lost him."

 

Veld frowned even deeper. "I’ll send the message around while you keep looking. With any luck the army will catch on and help you. Report anything else that goes on over there."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

Veld hung up. He hadn't expected the rookie to actually _find_ anyone... He had just wanted to give him some field experience, and make sure all the sectors were covered. The boy was doing well so far, even if this wasn't the culprit.

 

"What happened?"

 

Veld looked up at the president's anxious face. "One of my subordinates has found a suspicious fellow running about in the slums." He started pressing buttons on his phone. "I'm sending out a mass message to the other Turks, telling them to look for him."

 

"Where?"

 

"He was being chased through Sector 5, towards Sector 4."

 

"I see..." He pressed the intercom button once again. "Heidegger, order the military to help the Turks find a man in the Sector 5 slums. He could also be in the adjacent sectors, so check all of them, just to make sure." Once again, there was a gruff affirmative on the other end. The president still stood by his chair, rubbing his right temple.

 

"Rufus..."

 

The boy bit his lip. "Papa?" He was hesitant to move. He could see the tension in the president’s form, and knew something was very wrong.

 

The president looked over at his son; his eyes twitched, refusing to reveal the sorrow they held within them. "Come here."

 

The boy's eyes widened, and he quickly released the hard grip he had on the young woman's dress. He ran towards his father, his face screwing up once again. "Papa--"

 

"Stop there!"

 

The boy stopped when he got to the desk, just before he had the chance to turn and tackle his father. His concerned face looked up, confused as to why his own father would keep him from comfort.

 

"Papa--"

 

"Don't say anything. Just stand there, by the desk."

 

The boy's bottom lip quivered as his eyes swelled with tears. He took another step to go around the desk. "Papa, where’s mama--”

 

"I said, shut up!"

 

The boy jumped in shock and stopped moving. He looked at his father's face, one that looked close to vengeful. His father was angry. He never got angry, ever. What was wrong? Where was his mother? His face screwed up as he started to cry for his mother. He didn’t understand anything, and he probably wouldn’t if they tried to explain. He just wanted his mother.

 

"She's dead!"

 

The phrase didn’t mean anything to the boy, who by now was terrified of his own father, and was waiting for Mother to save him.

 

"Stop it... stop crying this instant!"

 

It did nothing. It may as well have stimulated more cries. He was just a child--a mournful, confused, terrified, and neglected one at that. He’d never respond to more shouts except to cry even louder.

 

"I said stop it! I don't want to hear it!" The president stepped around the desk, hoping to appear more intimidating.

 

What good did that man think would come from that? When would he learn that ordering people to do things just made them want to do the opposite?

 

"Dammit, stop, _now!"_ His hand cut the air as it rushed towards the boy.

 

Rufus let out a sharp yelp as he fell onto his side, onto the hard, cold floor. He cried harder, holding his stinging cheek.

 

The maid gasped. "M-Mr. President! How could you--"

 

"You keep out of this, unless you want some too!" yelled the man, blind in his rage. He turned back to his crying son. "Get up! Get up and stop crying! Do you want worse than that?!"

 

Nobody had noticed the Turk wince when the hardened flesh of the president's hand met his frail son's cheek. He quickly erased all traces of emotion as the hurt child struggled to stand, still holding his cheek and sobbing quietly.

 

"Put your arm down, I didn't hit you that hard. Next time, I'll use my fist, you hear me?"

 

The boy let his arm fall, wincing as tears continued to streak his face. He looked at the floor, unable to meet his father's menacing gaze.

 

"Look up at me. Look at me!"

 

The boy slowly raised his head, terrified of what he would see. Quiet gasps escaped him as he stared at his father in disbelief and fear.

 

"Now wipe that pathetic look off you face. You're a Shinra, goddammit! What would people think if they saw you right now? They'd call you weak. They'd push you around and take advantage of you. You musn't let them do that, _ever_ , you hear me?!"

 

Most likely, Rufus didn’t understand most of what his father had said. The one thing he _did_ understand was that it was bad to cry, because it made Father angry. No matter how nice Father had been in the past, crying was bad, now.

 

He struggled to regain control of himself. If he stopped crying, then his father would stop being so scary, right? That's what he hoped. So he put all of his might into controlling his breathing, and ceasing the sobs that wracked his small frame. He might be able to do that, but he couldn't stop the tears, no matter how hard he tried. He met his father's gaze with pained, yet determined eyes.

 

The president was quieter now. Had the boy's hypothesis been true? "Now you look at me, and listen. I don't ever want to see that face again. I don't ever want to see you crying again.”

 

Rufus internalized that order as if it were the sole thing keeping him alive. He never wanted to see Father angry again. Maybe if he was good, Father would bring back Mother.

 

The president looked over to the two by the door. "Veld!"

 

"Yes, sir?"

 

"Take my son to his room. There's one down the hall that’s been assigned to him." The maid was confused at this statement. "Come back here when you’ve locked him in there, and only after an officer is safely inside the room with two outside the door."

 

"Yes sir." He looked at the boy waiting patiently for him to follow. The boy stared at his father for a few moments before backing away slowly, then turning away to follow the black-clad Turk. The door slid open, and the two left just as they had came, leaving the president and his maid.

 

The girl looked very uncomfortable after what had just unfolded in front of her. What on Gaia had happened to the kind-hearted, considerate man she had known for years? Where was the president that had taken her in when she had nowhere to go but the gutter, after her mother had abandoned her?

 

The man before her stood with his back facing her. "Yori. I thank you for all you have done, and I'm sorry I have to do this. I’m letting you go."

 

The girl's eyes widened in shock. What was going on?

 

"S-Sir?"

 

"You heard me. Don't worry, Shinra will help you find a job in the city. You will still be able to earn a living."

 

The girl was suddenly angry, and hurt. She had considered this, but she hadn’t actually thought it would happen. "Is it because... I'm Wutaian?"

 

The president was silent for a moment. "I don't think you would betray me. I know you, you're a good girl. You wouldn't hurt a fly. But you are also easily manipulated. And I can't endanger this company by having you work on the inside, let alone close to my son. I'm sorry."

 

The girl glared at the man's back with disbelief. All because of where her parents had come from?! She was born _here_ for Gaia's sake! How could he do this to her!? She could feel the hate building up inside her, and directed it towards the company that ruled all, but didn’t seem to care for anyone but the wealthy. She hated Wutai, also. It took two sides to have conflict, and they were both playing their parts perfectly. All she wanted was to scream. But she didn't. She held it in, all of her frustration, disbelief, and sorrow. Why did the world always have to be so cruel? She turned and left, headed the same way she came in. She would collect her things, then try to find an inn in the slums until she had a job. She was resourceful. She didn't need Shinra.

 

########

 

Veld opened the door for the last time that day, before he went back out to work. It was getting late in the afternoon, and he was extremely impatient. He really hoped the president didn't have another stupid assignment for him.

 

"You wanted to see me again, sir?"

 

The president was sitting at his desk, filling out some papers with an indiscernible purpose. He looked up at the Turk with empty eyes. "Yes, I did. I have an important assignment for you."

 

Veld then thought that he should stop thinking about things he did not want to happen.

 

The president went on, oblivious of Veld’s inner thoughts. "I want you to watch my son and ensure his safety. In short, I want you to be his bodyguard."

 

Veld couldn't believe it. He had been reduced from head Turk to a babysitter in mere hours. He kept his frustration under control, however, and answered as respectfully as was possible at that moment. "Sir, if I may protest, I am head Turk. I cannot spend my time watching over young children and still do my job as efficiently as I have been--"

 

"Then find someone else to do it."

 

Veld was shocked. He hid it well, though. The president went on, "I don't want an idiot who can't take care of a living soul though. I want someone who is skilled and intelligent enough for the job. Is that simple enough for you?"

 

Veld had nothing to say, for once. There was a simple answer to that question, but it just didn't seem to come out easily. Basically, he was relieved. He could just find someone for the job, then go out and do his own. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

 

"Fine, then you're dismissed. When you've chosen your candidate, send them here and I'll give them the mission details."

 

"Yes, Mr. President." He turned, and left. He really didn't care _who_ he picked at the moment, but he couldn't pick one of the senior Turks. He needed them for what they were already doing. And the cadets... they were idiots. And they would never be able to finish their training if they had a young boy to look after. So, he had very easily narrowed down his choice to one person.

 

########

 

The vibrating was getting annoying.

 

How many messages had he gotten already, in the few minutes following that one to Veld? It seemed like all of a sudden, the other Turks wanted to help him, or rather find the culprit and steal all the glory from the one who had found him in the first place, at the cost of his only materia. It was mastered, too. He was still sore about that... He sighed, pulling out his phone. He had just gotten it a couple of hours ago, and he already hated it.

 

When he read the message, he stopped walking. A man who had been walking behind him bumped into his shoulder, cursing him, but he didn't hear. Apparently, he was to report to the president's office for a mission.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, president is being an ass. It hurt to write. People like that exist, and it makes me mad :/ He isn’t shown as this much of an ass in canon, but he’s canonically neglectful. Rufus would grow up the same either way.


	3. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tseng is Unprepared, Shinra is still a douche, and there’s MAYBE some plot? Sorry Rufus can’t really get into trouble right now, I’ll grow him up soon B) Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a monster to rewrite because when I was younger I didn’t seem to understand that four-year-olds can’t have intelligent conversation. I had to cut most of it out, so sorry for the shorter chapter.
> 
> (Also Tseng calls Rufus a three-year-old because he doesn’t know he’ll be four in a week. Rufus is tiny, yep.)

"I want him to be your top priority until further notice. Now go to his room, and make sure he's in bed by eight." The president turned back to his work without another word.

 

"Yes, sir." The boy said, hiding his bitterness. He turned on his heel, headed for the door, pressed the button, and let himself out.

 

Yes, he was bitter. What did he expect, to be happy about his new assignment, his second mission in a day? Yes, he did. He had been hoping for something else exciting, like maybe a trip to Wutai, since there was so much trouble there anyway. But no, he was stuck with--he shuddered--babysitting.

 

He made his way down the hall at a less-than-hasty pace. He wasn't particularly enthusiastic about babysitting a three-year-old. The kid probably didn't even know what the hell was going on, that his own mother was dead. He didn't know that Shinra and Wutai were about to initiate a long and bloody war over said death. And he didn't know how desperately the Turks had searched for the culprit, to avenge his mother. No, he was probably babbling away in his room, playing with his gratuitous amounts of toys and luxuries. He was clueless.

 

Maybe that was a good thing. Tseng had no intention of dealing with a screaming crybaby, calling for his mother until further notice. That's what the president had said, "until further notice." That meant he had to babysit the brat indefinitely, forever maybe. His entire career was now confined to the very building he had longed to leave for the last year, an outcome he hadn't even considered. The thought made him want to retch. He didn’t want to risk soiling his brand-new uniform, though. Yes. That was the only reason he didn’t vomit in the hall.

 

This was the living quarters for guests, apparently. A room on the left at the end of the hall was now inhabited by a small boy, and the new Turk's destination. Now that he'd thought about it, Tseng understood why the boy might be screaming and crying when he arrived. One, his mother had been killed right in front of him. That was the big one. Two, he was with only Security at the end of an empty hallway in an unfamiliar room. Tseng winced; he had to be ready for anything now. If only he'd taken a babysitting class of some kind... He’d never planned on guarding anyone under the age of being potty-trained. He reached the door, showed his ID to the guards, and they let him in.

 

The guard inside nodded to him respectfully, and Tseng nodded back, relieving him of his post. He looked around the room, surveying his surroundings and assessing the situation. It was a good-sized room with a king-sized bed, fit for guests of the Shinra company--why it was being used as a toddler’s bedroom was beyond him. Though it must have been hard to accommodate the boy, considering he had his own room at his estate and was being held here for some reason.There was a bathroom and dressing room off to the right, and a desk in front of the window at the back of the room. A small nightstand sat in the far left corner, next to the bed. The walls were painted a dark, maroon-red color, and the floor was a golden-yellow carpet. A framed picture of the Shinra insignia hung above the headboard, to complete the picture of powerful and wealthy hospitality.

 

Tseng saw that the curtains were drawn in front of the window--probably an act on Veld’s part—to restrict any view into the room from outside. The situation looked secure; even if there had been a guard inside just thirty seconds before, Tseng was taught never to assume anything. He couldn’t afford a failure on his first day of duty. Not only was this his first mission, but he held this young boy’s life in his hands, protecting him from the same killers who got his mother.

 

Who was he kidding? Certainly not himself. He was a damn babysitter, what was he going to encounter, a diaper change? His life’s aspirations had been thrown down the tubes when he accepted this mission. But did he really have a choice? If he had refused, he might have found himself looking for a new job, wasting the year he had spent in training. Then again, the sudden thought of changing diapers scared the Turk, and he banished the thought from his mind. He’d deal with it if it came.

 

He looked around for the boy he was supposed to be watching, and realized he should have checked to make sure the boy was actually there before relieving the guard. He felt his heart leap, even though he was ninety-nine percent sure everything was fine. He went deeper into the room, and checked behind the bathroom door, in the tub, then went out and checked the dressing room and closet, and even opened the chest of toys that was next to the desk. Rufus _had_ to be in there. Then he turned and looked at the bed. He got down on his hands and knees and pulled the bedskirt up so he could see under it.

 

There he was, huddled under the bed with a wide-eyed expression on his face.

 

Tseng did his best to appear nonthreatening, then he remembered he himself was rather young. Hopefully the boy wouldn’t be afraid of a teenager. “Hello,” he said quietly.

 

Rufus didn’t move, and kept staring, so Tseng tried to think of more to say. “Um… What are you doing under the bed, sir?”

 

Rufus chewed on his thumb. “Hiding.”

 

That was obvious, but Tseng kept the conversation going. “Who are you hiding from, sir?”

 

Rufus kept staring. “The bad people.”

 

“What bad people, sir?”

 

Rufus hid half his face in his arms in front of him. “Veld said there were bad people, so I’m hiding.”

 

Tseng frowned. He could let the boy hide under the bed the whole time and it would be easy on him, sure. But… that seemed cruel. And Tseng was always determined to do his job at the highest caliber. He wanted his charge to be comfortable with him as a bodyguard. And so, he set upon his goal to get Rufus out from under the bed.

 

“Well, they’ll never find you under here, sir. This is a good hiding place.” Of course it wouldn’t save him from a trained killer, but obviously he wasn’t going to say that.

 

Rufus chewed on his lips, seemingly less guarded and more curious. Tseng went on, glad that the child wasn’t crying at least. “But, you don’t need to worry anymore, sir. If anyone wants to hurt you, they’ll have to come through me.”

 

Rufus didn’t hesitate in his question. “Where’s mama?”

 

Tseng blinked at the sudden subject change. “I… don’t know sir,” Tseng lied. He didn’t want to be the one to tell the boy. He didn’t want to give him any reason to cry. Not only that, but it wasn’t in his job description. Wait, did he even have a job description? He didn’t remember actually reading one. He’d have to check again.

 

Rufus screwed up his face. “I want mama!” He looked like he might cry if Tseng didn’t do something fast.

 

Crap. Crap, uh, what was he supposed to do!? He had no idea.

 

He was doomed.

 

Rufus began to cry, still asking for his mother. Tseng didn’t know what to do. He’d never had to deal with crying children, and he’d never learned how. He’d never had a reason. He could just sit there while Rufus cried under the bed, and guard the room, and his job would be complete. But that wasn’t good enough. What could he do!?

 

He blinked, then pulled out his phone. He still didn’t know how to use all the features, but one of them involved Net access. He could access Shinra’s public domain library from his phone. He could look up what to do in this situation.

 

It took some doing, but he found the browser and managed to find an article, all the while wincing at Rufus’ pained cries. He scrolled through, looking for any useful advice.

 

Most of it had nothing helpful to his situation, since the object that Rufus wanted was his mother, and that was impossible to give him. There was that, and most of the tips were about a child throwing a tantrum, and Rufus was doing nothing of the sort. Tseng did find however that usually children cried more when people reacted to them, so the best thing was to ignore them in that case. Finally, when a child wanted something they couldn’t have, it was best to distract them with something else, and hope they forgot about whatever they wanted. Children ages three to six had very short attention spans, and could be distracted easily, it said.

 

It would be difficult in Tseng’s case, but he hoped he could find something distracting. He put away his phone, went to the chest of toys, and pulled out a toy infantryman. It was time to play.

 

########

 

His eyes never left the phone for a second. He probably hadn’t blinked for a couple minutes now, and didn’t notice the pain from his eyes drying out. Many people say no news is good news, but right now, the president wanted some news. Veld hadn’t contacted him for an hour, not since he’d left to lead the investigation. They were still looking for that one man… From what he’d heard, there was very little evidence that helped point to a culprit, since they could be anywhere in Midgar. The various construction sites scattered through each sector didn’t help, either—they just made more hiding places for suspicious individuals. That and the fact that the Turks still weren’t all on the job were killing the president. He could almost feel his hair turning gray and falling out with stress and anticipation.

 

However, Veld was a responsible Turk, and he would report back at specific times, whether there was news or not. Sure enough, the phone rang, and the president snatched it up, almost dropping it onto the desk in front of him. “What’s the situation?” He asked, frantically.

 

He was disappointed to hear a woman’s voice on the other end. It wasn’t Veld, after all. When the hell was he going to report? “We’ve reached the house, sir. It’s secure, and in perfect condition. We’re waiting for orders, sir.”

 

So, those people _were_ somewhat competent. They had been sent to inspect the house, and make sure it was okay. Next, he would decide what was to become of it. Over the course of the day, he’d lost all attachment he had towards it and simply wanted it gone.

 

“… Call Demolitions. I want that place flat by the end of the day. Leave everything inside.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

 

“S-Sir?” Came the confused reply.

 

“You heard me, I want no trace of that place remaining.”

 

There was a small hesitation. “What of the property, sir?”

 

The president thought for a moment. “Turn it into apartments, I don’t care. Just destroy it, now.”

 

He hung up. How many times in the last hour has someone called him for some stupid reason, like this one? He’d lost count. And there were bound to be more, given his profession.

 

As if on cue, another call came in. He snatched it up, angrily, having no confidence that the person on the other side would be Veld. "What do you want?" He asked, with contempt.

 

It was man's voice this time, but not Veld's. It was only expected. "Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but the funeral plans have not been completed--"

 

"I told you, just cremate the body. There won't be any more planning. There will be no ceremony. I don't want to hear anything else about it."

 

The man was confused. "B-But sir, are you sure--"

 

"I'm positive!" Yelled the president. "Say no more about it, or I'll have your job."

 

"Y-Yes sir." The line went dead.

 

The president went back to rubbing his temples. Was there no end to the incompetence these people had? He, the president, had to control _everything_ , or something was bound to go wrong. There were some times when he hated being the president. He hated the responsibility, the hierarchy, not to mention the _stupidity_ of everyone around him. These calls never seemed to end. Why didn't he just do everything himself, if they had to ask for his permission, or his guidance?! But he was just one person, and running the whole world by himself would be impossible. And so he'd just go on dealing with these calls like a good presiden--

 

_Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiing._

 

He internally fumed with frustration. He just didn't want to think anymore. He picked up the phone once again, with distaste. "President Shinra speaking."

 

It was his secretary. "Mr. President, I'm sorry to bother you, but the girl you sent to the front is not there. The man that was to escort her is here."

 

This guy was probably an infantryman, a simple guard. The president frowned, wondering where the girl could have gone. He told his secretary to put the man on the phone, to make things easier, then asked, "Where did she go?"

 

"I have no idea, sir. I was told to escort her to an apartment in the sector 5 slums, but I've been waiting here for a couple of hours. My superior told me not to worry about it, but..." he trailed off. He must have been extremely nervous, talking to the president himself.

 

"Perhaps she left of her own volition. If she doesn't want Shinra's help, then that's her problem. I have much more important things to attend to."

 

The man was very nervous, indeed. "Y-Yes sir. Thank you, sir." He handed the receiver back to the secretary, who then hung up after the president dismissed her.

 

Where the hell was that girl, anyway? Was Yori really that unappreciative of his offer? He grumbled, frustrated. She just didn't understand, did she?

 

That reminded him of the press conference he would have to go to soon. Everyone wanted to know if Wutai was responsible for the assassination "attempt," and what would be done about them. People wanted to know if the president and his son were alright. Really, what was he supposed to tell them?! "Oh, okay, we're fine, it's like nothing even happened. Thanks you for your concern, and keep buying our mako please." Yeah, that's basically what he had to say. Sure, he would get some mourning time, but people needed a strong leader that could take anything thrown at him. Once he started talking about the future, the people would totally forget about the present, and what had just ruined his life.

 

That was the thing. He could just give up, and go away to take care of his son. That was what he really wanted to do, besides get revenge. But what would happen to the company in the hands of those incompetent fools like Heidegger and Scarlet? All they cared about was money, and weapons. Nobody would be able to run the company like a Shinra could. Nobody could do it right. And so, he was sacrificing his life, his happiness, for this stupid company. He did it for the people of Gaia, so they could live easier. He did it, and nobody would even care in the long run. Hell, he'd probably be assassinated for some stupid rebel organization's cause. Everything just seemed so pointless now.

 

But he still had Rufus. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure nothing ever happened to his son. He'd make sure Rufus knew all he needed to know, and was prepared for any type of situation, so he could take over the company when the time came. He'd make sure Rufus had a future full of love and peace. He wasn't doing it for the people anymore, but for his son. Nothing was more important.

 

_Brrrrrriiiiiiing._

 

There it went again. What more did these people have to bother him with? He picked up the phone. "President Shinra speaking."

 

"Sir, I have urgent news."

 

He jumped, and his eyes widened. It was Veld, finally. "What is it? What happened?"

 

"We have reports that several construction workers in sector 4 have gone missing. This has a few implications.”

 

"And what are those?"

 

"One is that they were killed or abducted when the culprit fled. Another is that they _were_ the culprits."

 

"What are you talking about? The only way that could be is if they were missing before the address."

 

Veld was deathly serious, if that was any different than his usual tone of voice. "That's exactly what happened, sir. They've been missing since 12:24 PM. We know the description of these individuals, their addresses, and the like. The Turks are investigating the matter ask we speak."

 

The president was silent for a moment. "So, if you find these people, the culprit may be with them?"

 

"That is only my speculation, sir, but that is the best lead we've gotten so far."

 

There was silence once again. The president was elated, but still angry. Also, what if those reports were just a coincidence? But there was still hope, he had to keep telling himself that.

 

"Well then, keep up the good work, Veld. I'll be looking forward to any developments."

 

"Yes sir." The line went dead again. The president set the phone back down, and put his head in his hands. all he could do was wait, again. Well, he also had a press conference to go to. Great.

 

########

 

The gravel crunched under the man's boots as he paced back and forth in front of his friend. Everything was his fault, _everything._ Now they'd all be found, and their mission would fail.

 

"Man, what the hell did you _think_ would happen?! What, with you runnin' around makin' noise all over--"

 

"Look, I said I was sorry, okay?! How was I supposed to know we were being watched?!"

 

"You're supposed to pay attention, idiot...

 

"Yeah, well, it's hard to keep track of every single person around you. Especially when you've checked your surroundings over and over, and found n _obody!"_ He stopped pacing and faced his friend. "I did all I could, okay? Maybe we'll be safe here. Nobody should find us."

 

"But that _kid_ saw you! You think he's gonna keep quiet about it?!"

 

"I dunno. He looked like a rotten little redhead, though. Like he'd ask for a big price for the info. Hell, he might even come after me and try to blackmail or something. That's when we get him."

 

The two calmed down. There was no way they'd be found out just because of one little kid. But with the Turks and the army after them, and SOLDIER guarding all the exits to the city, there was no way to escape. They'd have to wait it out, until Shinra gave up, and called back their forces to attend to a more important issue.

 

The man looked up, and and a tiny stream of light reflected off of the frames of his glasses. "Please don't tell the boss about this. I don't think he'll react well to hearing that I may have destroyed years of planning in one moment." He held the cross hanging from his neck like a lifeline.

 

His burly friend smirked. "Don' worry, I got your back. But we gotta hide you, along with the other guys. I'm sure Shinra's made the connection between the missing workers and the assassination by now. You have any idea where they went?"

 

The man looked at the ground. "I dunno. I got a message from Cliff before all hell broke loose. He said it would be impossible to rendezvous with the rest of us."

 

The other man cursed. "Man, how are we gonna find them now? I told them to take phones--"

 

"And you know the risks that would come with that. Tracking, interception, et cetera..."

 

"Yeah, and only you would know about that." The man frowned at his burgundy-haired friend.

 

The man smirked in return. "Well, nobody's better at that kind of stuff than me, of course. But seriously, we should try to find everyone. And keep a look out for that kid!" He jabbed a finger at his friend, for emphasis. "He's got scraggly red hair and a squirt gun, and probably a stupidly arrogant grin on his face. If you see him, take him out. Or better yet, capture him, so we can find out if he told anyone."

 

"Right-o, meet back here in an hour, got it?"

 

"Right."

 

They parted, heading off in opposite directions. The maroon-haired man ducked around a corner into an alley when a Shinra infantryman passed by. He smirked. Like they'd find anyone by using the army. Those guys weren't trained for anything other than being a meat-shield. They'd have no chance against what was coming for them.

 

He was having second thoughts though. The mission failed today, and he may have started a war. Wutai wasn't even responsible for the screw up, and they would pay for it. Some people were so _stupid_ sometimes. Not that woman, though. If she hadn't seen him, if she hadn’t been attentive to her surroundings, she might have still been alive. And the president would be dead, instead. The mission would have been a success, and nobody else would have to suffer. Shinra would fall without its leader, and the world would be saved. But now it would just suffer through a long and bloody war. Wutai wouldn't give up under any circumstances, and Shinra would decimate its entire population if need be. How many people would die because of his stupid mistake?

 

He shook his head. After the infantryman passed around another corner, he ran on. He decided not to think about it. After all, if they didn't fight for the Planet, a future much worse would come to pass. All of humanity would die, along with every living organism on the Planet. It didn't matter how they stopped Shinra now--the ends justified the means.

 

########

 

Tseng looked from his captains getting blown away to see Rufus wiping his eyes, They were wet, but the small boy looked to be trying to hide that fact. The boy sniffed, and yawned from under the bed. Tseng had laid down next to the bed and played with Rufus until he calmed down, but he still hadn’t come out.

 

"Sir, it's getting late, and it's my responsibility to make sure you're in bed by eight o' clock."

 

Rufus looked up at him, tiredly. He hadn't been too enthusiastic about playing with his dolls--action figures, as he called them--and wouldn't eat much when dinner was sent up for him. But what was a thirteen, almost fourteen-year-old supposed to do about it? Tseng wasn't a therapist, his job wasn't to make anyone feel better. He was a bodyguard. But he didn't like to see anyone in this sort of situation.

 

When the boy looked down again, he groaned, and didn't do anything. Tseng took the initiative, since the president's orders superseded any the boy would give him. "Sir, you need to get some sleep. You can come out from under the bed, now." He stood, but the boy still didn't respond. "Sir..." Was he supposed to physically move the child, and put him to bed? Why did his job description have to be so vague?! He'd have to ask Veld about it later.

 

"I don’t wanna sleep," the boy said quietly. That was obviously untrue.

 

Tseng crouched back down and looked at the boy with exasperation. “Sir, you’re tired and you need rest. We can play more tomorrow, okay?” And that was probably true, because Tseng was to be his bodyguard until further notice.

 

The boy frowned, almost questioningly. Then his expression softened to a more apathetic look. It killed Tseng to see such a young child with that sort of expression on their face. "Okay..." Rufus said, with a hint of disappointment and sadness in his voice. He pulled himself out from under the bed finally, as if he didn’t remember why he was under there in the first place, and tried to take off his coat.

 

After a few failed attempts at getting the buttons undone, Tseng walked over to help. At first, Rufus grumbled, saying he could do it himself. But he knew better, and capitulated. Soon, Tseng took his bleached white jacket, and hung it in the closet. When he saw Rufus struggling with his shoes, he went over and easily undid the knots, setting the shoes inside the closet. He turned and walked back to the bed, where Rufus was already tucking himself in. The blankets were heavy and too large for such a small boy to move, so Tseng helped once again. When the boy was all comfortable and snuggled into the covers, the Turk felt a little better. He hadn't had much trouble with this child. But at the same time, he was disappointed. He wouldn't be seeing any real action any time soon. He stood up straight, and bowed his head to his new superior. "Good night, sir." He started toward the door.

 

"Will you read me a story?."

 

Tseng flinched. Why, _why_ did the universe hate him so? All he wanted was to call Security to watch the door then get to bed himself... He turned back around, and answered. "I don't see any books here, sir."

 

"Then _tell_ me a story!” He gave Tseng a look that just said ‘duh’.

 

Tseng was dumbfounded. How the hell was he supposed to know any bedtime stories!? He wasn't that creative, either. He could shoot, track, and protect anything he needed to, but he couldn't make up a stupid story. He wondered if he should go get Shuriken, but decided against it. "Alright, sir..."

 

Tseng started off nervously, as expected. "Uhh... Once upon a time, there was a little boy, named, uh... Rufus."

 

Rufus looked at him, an eyebrow raised. Tseng mentally kicked himself for the billionth time that day for his poor choice of words. "A-And, uh, he was the son a a powerful man, who was the... uh... leader of the tribe. And Rufus really liked to run and play with his friends, but he had responsibilities to attend to first. Like training. He had to become a mighty warrior, so he could, uh, defeat the evil Lord--"

 

"Scarlet." Rufus broke in.

 

Tseng raised his eyebrow, and went along with it. "Yes, the evil Lord Scarlet. Scarlet was causing trouble in the... the Department of Urban Development, trying to build large amounts of

carefully-placed turret guns, to keep their enemies from attacking the headquarters."

 

Rufus frowned, confused by the choice of words, but didn’t say anything.

 

Tseng frowned. "Um... it's complicated. They were about as advanced as we are, but they decided to be simple at the same time. But Scarlet wanted more and more power, and started to take over the tribe little by little. It was Rufus' job to keep her from her goal of ruling the world. And so, one day, Rufus was strong enough to fight Scarlet. Her forces were many in number, but they were no match for Rufus and his immense strength and agility. He broke into Scarlet's secret hideout, and held her hostage, forcing her to sign a treaty with the rest of the tribe, taking away her role as Weapons Development department chair. The end."

 

Tseng looked over at the boy, relieved to see that his story was so boring, and made so little sense, that he was already asleep. He turned and walked towards the door once more. He opened it, and set it so only he could unlock it from the outside. The he turned back to the sleeping toddler, his new charge.

 

"Goodnight, sir." He turned, and the door slid shut behind him.

 

 

 

He sighed in relief as he walked back down the hall to the elevator, after making sure Security was there to guard the door. He was about to hit the Down button when he noticed a message on his phone. It was from Veld.

 

_Good work on the investigation today. We found many good leads thanks to you. Keep up the good work. Also, your apartment has been moved from the Turk's floor to the room next to Rufus Shinra's. There's a code on the door, 77253. It corresponds to your name, in case you forget it. Good luck, rookie._

 

Tseng blinked. It probably would have been nice to know that hours before, but it was done. It would be strange to live here, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Now he had to walk back to his door and nod to the officers posted outside, like he knew what he was doing. That was awkward… He looked back at his phone and read the last three words with pride--the first little sliver of pride he'd felt since his career started that day. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tseng should tell everyone bedtime stories. 10/10 would recommend for every child.


	4. Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tseng babysits some, because Shinra is a disorganized mess and didn't give him an actual job description. Yay, bureaucracy!

Tseng had never been so sleep deprived in his life. He didn't like missing any sleep, because he needed to be in top condition every day. However, he would soon learn that working for Shinra meant that you gave everything to them, even your rest.

 

This was first exemplified by Tseng's inability to set his alarm on his phone, which would wake him in enough time to get ready the next day. The phone was easy enough to use, however, there were functions unknown to the young Turk, and it took him much longer than necessary to find the alarm. When it was set, it decided to go off every so often, because he had set it for PM, instead of AM. Not only that, but his alarm tone was extremely monotonous, and would probably wake the dead. Once that was fixed, Tseng finally got into bed, trying to forget that he was in a room next to the president's son, and that he was currently a babysitter.

 

However, his brief moment of peace did not last long, and the evil job of babysitting once again reared its head when Rufus Shinra had a bad dream.

 

There was a faint knock on the door, barely loud enough for the young Turk to hear. Though it was good that Tseng could hear, because if he didn't, the poor boy outside might have run crying to his father, making a much bigger fuss than was necessary. Tseng jumped out of bed, and unlocked the door, letting it slide open with the familiar airy _whoosh_. What he didn't expect was a small child to dart in and ram into his legs, attaching himself to the Turk.

 

“S-Sir?! What's wrong?” Tseng stammered. Had someone tried to do something, and he hadn't heard it? He'd have to change that, to put some kind of monitor in the young boy's room.

 

Rufus answered, his small voice muffled beyond comprehension. Tseng blushed, and tried not to think about where the boy's face was at the moment, because of his height. “Sir, I can't hear you. What happened?”

 

Rufus pulled his face away from Tseng, and revealed a pitiful sight; his eyes were watering, and his lips trembled. “I had a bad d-dream.” It looked like the boy was still trying to control his cries, stopping his own tears before they left his eyes.

 

Tseng's expression went from worried to exasperated in an instant. He was tired from the day's work, and he hadn't slept for even an hour before this little interruption. He didn't want to look insensitive, but the boy needed to learn to deal with his nightmares. Tseng had learned from a young age to deal with such things, and believed that kind of strength was a virtue.

 

But he wasn't talking to a young, proud, Wutaian boy. He was talking to a spoiled brat who had had the luxury of running to his mother any time he wanted to. Though Tseng was a bit jealous, he was also sympathetic, since this boy no longer had that luxury. It had been stolen from him in one day, and would never be returned to him. So which was worse, losing that luxury so quickly and abruptly, or never having it to begin with? Tseng had no idea, but he didn't think it was fair either way.

 

“Would you like some company for a while, sir?” Rufus nodded vigorously. “Alright, come in.” He moved aside, allowing the boy passage. He felt a little more comfortable around the boy, confident that he wouldn't tattle to his father about the most trivial of matters, such as addressing him incorrectly. The boy ran in and jumped onto the oversized bed, hugging his knees. Tseng followed him back inside, and switched on the bedside light. The light reflected off of the young boy's tears, accenting his watery eyes. Tseng winced at the sight, and sat down beside the boy.

 

“So... what is bothering you, sir?”

 

Rufus sniffed before answering. “Scarlet took my mamma away. She was laughing, too...”

 

Tseng thought for a moment, wondering why the hell the boy would dream about Scarlet. That's when he remembered the bedtime story. He mentally kicked himself, once _again_ that day, and tried to think of a way to comfort the little one beside him. The problem with that was the fact that the boy's mother was dead, and there was no bringing her back.

 

“Don't worry, Scarlet didn't take your mother, I'm sure of it.”

 

“Then who did? Where did she go?”

 

And that's where the trouble came in. Of course, that particular topic would _have_ to come up, since every other horrible event that Tseng could fathom had happened right as he had thought of it. He decided to use euphemisms, to the max.

 

“Mother is tired right now. She needs her rest.” Tseng hoped that was enough. He didn't feel like being the one to tell him of his mother's fate... supposing the president hadn't already done so. Then he didn't want to be the one to remind the boy.

 

“When will she be better?”

 

Tseng frowned. “We don't know, I'm sorry sir.”

 

“Are you taking care of me now?”

 

Tseng was stunned for a moment, and tried to recover. Is that really what he was doing? Because if he said “Yes,” then he might have to deal with all of those other jobs that mothers often did to take care of their children. And that may include baths. Tseng shuddered at the thought.

 

But really, what else was he going to say, that his mother was coming back? Or that his mother was never coming back? One answer would be a lie and would create false hope, and would ultimately lead to the boy's distrust of the Turk. The other answer would be the complete truth, but might give the boy even more trauma than was good for him. Tseng decided to ditch both of those answers, and go with the first thought.

 

“... Yes. Yes, I am, sir.” What did he have to lose? Hell, he might have ended up doing those same motherly jobs he abhorred, even if he said otherwise. It didn't make it any easier to look the boy in the face after he said it, though.

 

Rufus looked up from his examining of the fabric of his pants, and stared right into Tseng's eyes. They held a mixture of shock, confusion, and a hint of relief. The corners of the boy's mouth continued to tremble for a moment, before curving upward into a genuine smile. It was then that Tseng saw the boy's true colors, and he felt a pang of sympathy. When the boy's look was too much, Tseng blushed, and looked away. He was forced to look back though, when he felt small arms reaching around him in a tight embrace, refusing to let go any time soon.

 

Tseng just stared at the top of the boy's head, regret filling him to the breaking point. He'd tried to hint that his mother was too tired to continue caring for him, but things never went the way he planned anymore, it seemed. His eyes softened, and he subconsciously brought his hand up to stroke the boy's hair. At first he realized what he was doing and nearly freaked, but he kept himself under control, justifying his act. _I guess my fathering instincts are kicking in... Oh boy._ He pushed that thought aside, thinking of what to do next. "Can you go back to sleep, sir?"

 

Rufus raised his head and nodded, smiling. But his features turned back to his usual. expectant stare when he told Tseng, "Tuck me in again."

 

Tseng's fragile fatherly exterior shattered instantly, leaving him with a pained and exasperated look on his face once again. "Yes, sir..."

 

Luckily, Rufus didn't need another bedtime story, and Tseng was able to get to bed right away. He collapsed onto the bed and barely pulled to covers up over his lean frame before drifting off once again. He just hoped the alarm really could wake the dead, because that's how he felt at that moment.

 

He wasn't asleep for thirty minutes before he felt something. He opened his eyes groggily, wiping his eyes and yawning. He turned over to see what the strange sensation was, and nearly jumped out of the bed in shock. There, in his bed, was a small, blond-haired boy, who had been snuggling up against him in his sleep. Tseng sat there, wide-eyed and breathing hard, his face screwed up and staring at that thing in his bed. One must understand that the Turk had never in his life shared a bed with anyone. He had never anticipated such an event ever occurring in the future, either. And so, when he saw the boy there, he felt nothing less than violated. Had the security guards just let him in!? Tseng supposed that was alright, but it was incredible what situation he was suddenly in.

 

But of course, he was unharmed, and he had to keep his wits about him. He calmed himself quickly, and attempted to solve the problem. There was a child in his bed, and he didn't want it there. However, this child was the son of the president, and therefore must be treated with the utmost respect, right? If the child wanted something, he would have it, within reason. How Tseng figured this was reasonable was beyond him, but there wasn't any time for things like simple logic. He was tired, and wanted sleep. And so he grabbed a pillow, and carefully placed it between him and the boy. Hopefully there would be no more problems. The child was safe with him, right? So he was doing his job, still. He lay back down, falling asleep right as he hit the pillow.

 

Tseng jerked awake when he felt that same feeling again. Something was latched onto him from behind, and it didn't seem to want to let go. Tseng took a deep breath, and eased away from the sleeping child, crawling out of the bed with the utmost care not to disturb him. He stood, and found the pillow he had placed between them on the floor by the door. Apparently Rufus had thrown it off when he realized he wasn't snuggling against a real person. Tseng grabbed the pillow and set it up neatly beside the bed, and laid down. Luckily it was summer, and he wouldn't freeze without a blanket. He closed his eyes for the last time that night, content that nothing else would keep him from his sleep.

 

And that's how Tseng got to where he was now. He was lying on the floor, faced up towards the ceiling, his hands intertwined on top of his stomach. And Rufus was clinging to his arm, snoozing away. Tseng's eyes were wide open, wary of his phone that was inches from his head. It was going to go off soon, indicating the time for him to get up and get ready, and go ask Veld what the hell he was supposed to do with a toddler.

 

He eventually gave up on waiting for the damn thing to sound, so he turned it off. He had more important things to worry about, like how he was going to get up without waking the sleeping child that was clinging to his arm.

 

########

 

There wasn’t much to worry about, however, because that same child woke up shortly.

Tseng was a little irked by his own constant worrying, and how it had kept him from sleeping. Rufus let go of his arm, stretching his arms above his head. When he felt himself being released, Tseng made to get up as soon as possible, but a small fist collided with his nose, and caused him to hesitate.

 

“Good morning, Tseng.” Rufus smiled at him.

 

Tseng blushed, feeling uncomfortable from both Rufus’ unorthodox greeting fist, and his irritated nose. He sat up, noticing how his hair tie was missing. He shuddered, wondering how it got on the other side of the room, broken. He answered the boy’s greeting, avoiding his eyes. “Good morning, sir. Is there anything you need?”

 

Rufus yawned, eyes squinting, and he mumbled something about being tired.

 

Now was his chance. All of his training as a Turk had led up to this point--he would use his skills in persuasion to manipulate the situation into something desirable, that would help him accomplish his mission quickly and efficiently.

 

"Perhaps you should go back to bed, sir... in your own room. I'm sure it would be a lot more comfortable than where you are now."

 

The boy sat up next to Tseng, rubbing his eyes. He looked up at Tseng, drawing the Turk's uncomfortable gaze. He spoke with an innocent, slightly weary tone, "But you won't be in there."

 

Tseng raised his eyebrows slightly in shock. Was this boy already that attached to him? He briefly pondered whether this was a good thing, or another horrible case of misfortune wrought down upon him while he answered the boy.

 

“I’m sorry I can’t be with you all the time… but I’ll be right there to wake you up later. And the guards will keep watch outside your door like they always do.”

 

Rufus pouted. “The guards are stupid. They don’t even know good stories.”

 

Tseng was at a loss. He didn’t know how to get the child to stay in his own room. But then again… He thought for a moment if that was a good idea after all. While he was getting ready for the day, the boy could be kidnapped somehow! Those generic infantrymen couldn’t possibly be held responsible for such an important person. If Rufus was taken, it would ultimately fall to Tseng to take the punishment.

 

But at the same time, how was he supposed to perform even the most basic of necessary tasks―such as eating and sleeping―while taking care of a child? Veld have given him absolutely nothing to go on, in that regard. It was his job to protect Rufus, at all times. If he must lose sleep or even personal hygiene, then so be it.

 

Since the latter was a preposterous idea, Tseng planned to contact Veld as soon as possible. But since Veld was probably busy with the other Turks and the ongoing investigation, Tseng had to think of something else until he could contact the commander.

 

He looked down at Rufus, hoping this was a good idea. “Sir, would you like to meet a friend of mine?”

 

########

 

There comes a time in everyone’s career when they have to take drastic measures, make difficult decisions. For anyone in their right mind, there would be a great amount of anxiety while deciding just the right way to go about this. On the one hand, they could lose their job and be punished extensively if they failed. On the other hand, they could succeed and nothing would come of it, other than their allowed continuation of employment. Tseng thought this through very thoroughly as he contacted one of his few friends. He supposed it would be inappropriate to ask a fellow Turk for help, but maybe it would be suitable to ask a friend? Luckily for him, all of his friends were cadets, and lived in the same building. If they were available, they could come to his aid in no time at all.

 

And luckily for him he knew one of them would be perfect for the job, while the others would simply stare in confusion and disbelief. They weren’t trained to handle children, and they probably had no interest in them at all. Then again, neither did he… But fortunately, Shuriken seemed to have a soft spot for children.

 

“Aw, he’s even more cute in person!” She fawned over the small boy in front of her, so close that her nose almost touched his. If she were any other person, Tseng might have felt she was just a little too close for comfort. But maybe this was an ancient motherly technique he had yet to understand, and he had yet to master. Not that he wanted to any time soon.

 

“Isn’t he just the most adorable little boy you’ve ever seen? Oh, he’s so precious, I just wanna hug him, and kiss him, and never, ever let him go!” She proceeded to give the boy a tight hug, but not so tight as to make him uncomfortable. Rufus simply stood in mild shock and discomfort at the sudden appearance of this strange girl.

 

The girl continued to fawn for a good two minutes, kneeling in front of the boy and coddling him until Tseng cleared his throat uncomfortably. Shuriken looked up at him as if wondering what could possibly be wrong with this situation.

 

Tseng frowned uncomfortably. “So... could you watch him for a little while? I promise it won't be long, and I'll contact Veld as soon as I can, and...” He seemed desperate to explain himself, and he was beginning to ramble, so Shuriken interrupted him.

 

“Tseng, I'll be here. Don't worry. I can watch him as long as you need.” She smiled genuinely.

 

Tseng stopped himself from rambling further, and sighed. “Okay... Please take him back to his room, and don't leave. It's not that I don't trust you, I just--”

 

“Tseng! It's okay, go!” Shuriken looked at him with amused sympathy. At least that's what it looked like to Tseng.

 

He opened his mouth to answer again, but let out a breath and shut it again. He nodded, and left for his bathroom.

 

Rufus stared at the door his bodyguard went though uneasily. Shuriken put her face closer to his to get his attention. “Hey, it'll be okay! I'm really nice when I want to be.”

 

Rufus looked at her, and looked at the floor, pouting.

 

Shuriken got a little closer and spoke more softly. “Hey, it's only for a little while. Tseng will spend the whole day with you when he's all done, okay? How about I help you get ready?” She smiled at him, trying to get him to look up at her.

 

Rufus glanced up, then back at the floor. “... Do I get a bubble bath?”

 

Shuriken grinned. “Of _course_ you can have a bubble bath. You've been such a good boy, after all.”

 

Rufus looked up at her, suddenly beaming. Shuriken laughed. “Now, come on back to your room.” She stood, taking Rufus' tiny hand in her own (which wasn't that big either, considering), and led him back out to his own room.

 

 

Tseng quickly towel-dried his hair and combed it, so he at least wouldn't look too incredibly haphazard when he left the room. His hair would air-dry, anyway. He opened the bathroom door, and saw that Shuriken and the boy were gone, as he'd instructed them. He couldn't help but worry however, so he hurried into the closet and dressed quickly. He was surprised to find many bleached-white shirts, and just as many pairs of pants to go with, so that he wouldn't have to wear the same suit every day. He had wondered how that was to work, and was glad he didn't have to worry about such a thing. There was only one spare suit jacket though, so he would have to be careful. He assumed any extras would come out of his pay, just like phones, and other equipment. He quickly dressed and pulled his damp hair back into a ponytail, and raced out the door and to Rufus' room.

 

He was pleased to see guards posted, and that the guards stopped him and made him show his ID card, even though he was dressed as a Turk. These weren't slackers―he would put in a good word for them in his report. He walked in and saw the door to the bathroom was closed, and Shuriken's voice carried from behind the door. He went up and knocked. “It's Tseng.”

 

Shuriken's voice was muffled. “Hey! We're almost done, okay? Hey, stop!”

 

There was splashing, and a little boy laughing. Tseng supposed that was good... He didn't know many ways to make people laugh, much less a child. At the same time, he hoped he wouldn't have to reply much on Shuriken. This was his job, after all. “I'll be right out here.”

 

“Okay!” She sounded like she was struggling, but she was having fun, too. Odd. Tseng went to sit on the bed, waiting for them. It was still rather early, so he decided against calling Veld for instructions... He suddenly thought, since the president ordered him to do this, did he report to _him_ now? That seemed unlikely, but this whole situation was so disorganized he had to make sure. He sent a quick message to Veld for advisement. Did Rufus have a schedule? If not, he'd have to improvise. The thought abhorred him. He was very, _very_ grateful that Shuriken was here helping out.

 

Shuriken seemed to know just what to do, all the time. She pulled Rufus out, dried him, tickled him a bit to make him laugh, laughed _with_ him... then helped him dress in his nice clothes and did his hair. Rufus struggled into his suit again, and she took it so easily... Tseng was amazed. He wouldn't have had any idea how to handle these situations. Hopefully Veld would give him better instructions, soon.

 

“Finished!” Yelled Shuriken. “Look at you, you're so _professional_ -looking!” She beamed at the little boy in front of her. Somehow she had coaxed him out of his irritable mood caused by having to wear the suit, and now he seemed to be trying to impress her. “You look just like a little version of the president.” She smiled, looking _very_ impressed.

 

Rufus grinned. “I look like papa?”

 

The girl beamed right back at him. “Of _course_ , just like him. And one day you'll grow up to be just like him―strong, smart, courageous, fair, kind―you'll be the _perfect_ president.”

 

Rufus beamed. “I want to be like papa.”

 

Shuriken looked delighted. “Good!”

 

Rufus finally lost interest in the strange girl and looked back to the one he understood to be his actual caretaker. “Can we play today? What are we doing?” His gaze was expectant.

 

Tseng hesitated. “I... I don't know yet.”

 

Shuriken burst right in, with all her worldly knowledge begging to assist. “They didn't give you a schedule? That's like, the first stop in hiring a babysitter. You want to make sure they do what you need them to do with your child. You'll most likely get one.” She smiled sweetly.

 

Tseng frowned. “Right... I asked Veld earlier, but he hasn't--” His phone interrupted him with a generic ring tone. He decided it was generic enough to not warrant any change. He answered quickly. “Tseng speaking.”

 

“ _I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.”_ He sounded tired. Tseng could only imagine what he and the other Turks had been up to. _“How have things been going with the president's son?”_

 

“Ah―Everything is fine, sir. But I haven't received any other instructions. I'm not sure what my job is, exactly.” He winced. Admitting insecurity in your job was never a good thing, at least not at Shinra.

 

“ _I understand, your job was sprung on you at a moment's notice. There was no plan to go with it. You've done well, considering. I hope I can assuage many of your concerns, now that things are beginning to get organized.”_

 

Tseng felt relief flow through him as Veld explained that Rufus would be getting a nanny by the end of the day, and a tutor would be hired. Tseng's sole purpose was to guard him. He would send reports to the president's secretary at the end of each day. _That_ was what Tseng was trained for. He felt much more confident in his position. He hung up and turned to Shuriken, who had been keeping Rufus busy again. “... You called me a babysitter.”

 

Shuriken laughed. “It's true! You'll see. But hey, it could be good for you. Just let me know if you need an more help, okay? It's always good to be a favorite of the president's son.”

 

Tseng frowned. “He's four. He doesn't _have_ favorites.”

 

Shuriken guffawed. “Of course he does! I'm his favorite right now.” She grinned. “Bye Rufus! Hopefully we'll see each other again!” She left.

 

Tseng watched her go, then turned to Rufus. “Do you like her more than me?”

 

Rufus thought for a moment. “No.”

 

Tseng snorted lightly in amusement. He actually wasn't expecting that. “Why?”

 

Rufus rubbed his face. “She pinched my cheeks.”

 

Tseng chuckled at that. “Well, she probably tells better stories. Do you want to play with your toy soldiers until I get your schedule?”

 

Rufus lit up and ran to get his toys. Tseng thought of as many army scenarios as he could, knowing he would never be prepared for what the boy had in store for him.

 

 

They played for a few hours (With Tseng's soldiers being easily manipulated and killed by Rufus' _cunning_ plans) before Rufus complained that he was hungry. Tseng attempted to remedy this by calling the cafeteria on Floor 27. It was common practice for any person above Floor 59 to order their meals and have them sent up, so they wouldn't have to deal with the common rabble, because they were _so_ very busy. Tseng wondered how many people actually went to the cafeteria every day. If everyone went at the same time, wouldn't there be huge lines, and the building would cease to function for a few hours at lunch time? This obviously wasn't the case, so he figured most people brought meals from home, or went out, and left the cafeteria food for emergencies. Besides, if you weren't above Floor 59, it probably wasn't very good food anyway.

 

When Tseng was a recruit (it already seemed so long ago) he usually took meals with his fellow cadets. Their floor was set up like the SOLDIER floor, with specialized meals fit for the military. When the common food arrived at Rufus' room, he found himself missing it. He figured he was important enough now to order a special meal if he wished, and he made a note to send to the cafeteria.

 

Rufus picked around his vegetables like any normal child would, and ate his rice and meat, babbling on about various odd things. Tseng wondered how Rufus could keep them all straight in his head when _he_ couldn't even understand them. He understood that children were illogical, but he had yet to experience it until now.

 

“Tseng, you gotta finish your food or you can't play!” Rufus pointed at Tseng's plate... with some of the meat bits pushed to one side.

 

Tseng frowned. “I don't eat meat, sir.”

 

Rufus wasn't convinced. “No, you won't get big and strong if you don't eat it! Mamma always says to finish _all_ the food.” He smiled as he finished all but the vegetables.

 

Tseng: sighed. It was going to be difficult explaining it to a four-year-old, but he supposed there was nothing else he could do. If nothing, it was conversation. “Then doesn't that mean you should finish your vegetables, sir?”

 

Rufus grimaced. “No, they don't taste good! I like Yori's veggies, these are nasty.”

 

Tseng forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course they weren't good, but he'd have a talk with the cafeteria later. “But you won't get big and strong if you don't eat them, remember?”

 

Rufus whined. “No, they'll make me sick.”

 

“I ate all of mine, sir. They're fine.” _He's just a child, don't get frustrated, Tseng._

 

Rufus huffed. “Tell Yori to make them better, these are bad.”

 

Tseng wrestled words with him for a few minutes, and eventually convinced Rufus that if he didn't eat his vegetables, he wouldn't get big and strong like his father. That made Rufus eat them, albeit with a perpetual grimace on his face. Tseng even _fed_ him a few bites to get him started. But when Rufus saw Tseng's unfinished plate again, he started with more trouble. “You still didn't finish your meat, Tseng!”

 

Tseng sighed. “Sir, I can't eat it. I'm sorry.”

 

“No, you are what you eat! You'll turn into a broccoli monster!”

 

Tseng blinked. Really now? “Sir, that's ridiculous.”

 

Rufus kept at it. “You'll turn green and you'll grow sprouts out your eyes and we'll have to cut you into little pieces and feed you to the hounds!”

 

“Sir, the hounds eat meat.”

 

Rufus shook his head. “They eat the enemies! Papa said Professor Hojo made special hounds that eat what we tell them.”

 

Tseng sighed again. “Sir, if I eat meat, I'll get sick. I... won't be able to play with you.”

 

Rufus gasped. “No, don't get sick! Please, don't get sick, we have to play!”

 

Tseng smiled. Victory. “Well, then I can't eat my meat. I'm special, so I have to eat lots of veggies. Then I'll stay strong, and I can protect you.”

 

Rufus approved, going on about how amazing and cool the Turks were, but not as cool as SOLDIER, and how he was going to be president and control the world. Tseng was slightly amused.

 

Later, after Rufus challenged him to a contest of remembering all of his stuffed animals' names (he lost, terribly), he got a message. The secretary informed him that a tutor had been hired and he would arrive within the hour. Tseng wondered, how would the tutor keep Rufus' attention long enough to teach him anything? Rufus was extremely intelligent for his age, but it was difficult to keep him interested in something. The tutor might have to get _very_ creative. Either that, or wait until Rufus was older. But it wasn't Tseng's place to question what the president did with his child.

 

The tutor arrived shortly, and began his work on teaching Rufus the alphabet, and how to write his name. Rufus surprised him by showing that he already knew how, and that he could write his father's and mother's names. He didn't entirely know what the letters meant, however, and the tutor began his colossally-difficult task of teaching the boy.

 

However, the four-year-old seemed to have decided that his education didn't matter as much as messing with his tutor. The poor man was at a loss. After an hour's lesson, he left. They were alone.

 

Rufus grinned at his bodyguard. “Can we play, now?”

 

Tseng deadpanned. “Sir... Did you torment the tutor just so he would leave, and so you could play?”

 

Rufus shook his head, but he was grinning. Tseng sighed. It wasn't his problem. He was just a bodyguard. But now he was faced with entertaining the boy until his nanny got there.

 

The girl was nice enough, and good enough at her job to keep Rufus occupied. She took over duties such as bathing and dressing the boy, feeding him, putting him to bed... much to Tseng's relief. The last twenty-four hours were only temporary, and now his only job was to guard. He felt much more secure in his duties.

 

That also meant that he had set hours to work. Before and after his duties were finished, Rufus would stay in his room with the guards outside to keep him safe. Tseng was then relieved from duty, and could go about as he pleased. That didn't mean he had much free time, however. He barely had any time to train and keep his skills sharp, let alone relax and maybe read a book. That, and he had nightly reports to submit to the president's secretary. He was beginning to learn the horrors of paperwork. He was glad that his education at home had been sufficient enough to be able to write professionally, at least. Most thirteen-year-olds would never reach his level of proficiency.

 

For now, he was waiting for a more structured schedule he could follow. Rufus had nothing to do but play in his room with his nanny (and occasionally Tseng himself, when Rufus insisted), and study with the tutor. He never had anywhere to go. Tseng supposed that would change soon, once everything was more organized. He wondered what Veld and the others were up to, how their investigation was going. There didn't seem to be anything to go on at all, and the city was at a loss. They wanted someone to blame. It seemed that war with Wutai was imminent, and this incident had only been a spark. Tseng didn't want to think about where his loyalties would lie if that happened. He would stay with the Turks, of course. But his home... He didn't want to have to fight them.

 

But in the meantime, he had his job to do. The president's son would be safe, no matter what happened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Special Episode of Tseng takes place the same year Zack goes to join SOLDIER, and it’s Tseng’s first mission as a rookie Turk. I don’t know how he’d still be a rookie, but since with my timeline he’s gonna be 23 he’ll be even less of a rookie. I’ll try to introduce missions gradually so that he doesn’t get a ton of experience before then, so that he’ll still be rookie-ish? This timeline is a convoluted mess.
> 
> 2) GUNSHOT ROMANCE IS DOWN AND THIS IS TERRIBLE. Luckily, there are Before Crisis videos all over youtube these days. I downloaded every single one. I don't have a problem, YOU have a problem.


	5. Down To Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since the start of the fic, and baby Rufus gets to go meet SOLDIER, and a certain creepy scientist. Ah yes. Also, more liberties taken in developing the Turk cadets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here begins the new age of this fic, the age of enlightenment—rather, the age in which I have graduated from college and hopefully I write much better than I did when I was 16.

Tseng tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the elevator to rise the nine floors so he could head down and speak with Veld. The thing stopped on every floor, and he wondered if people were going up for an executive meeting. He didn't really want to be in the elevator with them if they were.

 

… He could use the stairs. It was only a few floors down to the Department of Administrative Research.

 

And that was how the young man began his practice of never using the elevator to get anywhere.

________________________________________________

 

After a week, Tseng and his charge were used to their little routine. Up at 8am, Rufus “studied” (or played, since the young boy would never pay attention to anything that didn't interest him), then lunch, then tutoring for an hour, then whatever else was on the agenda for that day. There wasn't much for that first week, but the President did make sure that his son met the famed SOLDIER operatives as soon as possible.

 

After being cooped up in his room with nothing to do for a week, Rufus was beside himself with joy at being able to go down and see the SOLDIER program up close. He was unusually excitable, jumping up and down waiting for the elevator and Tseng worried that the boy wouldn't be able to control himself down on the SOLDIER floor. He hoped Rufus would simply be stunned into silence, and that the novelty would wear off quickly and he'd be left with a quiet charge once again.

 

Rufus also seemed overjoyed to be doing something with Tseng. After the nanny had arrived that first day, Tseng no longer had to do anything but stand guard, and Rufus cried when the nanny tried to play with him. She had to convince Rufus that Tseng was still there and he wasn't leaving before the boy calmed down. Rufus had grown attached to him quickly and it made Tseng uncomfortable. It took a week for Rufus to warm up to the nanny, and even then Tseng found himself the subject of the boy's yearnful gaze.

 

So when Tseng entered the room that fateful morning and announced that they were going downstairs to see SOLDIER, Rufus practically squealed with delight. No, he _did_ squeal. If it had been any other child Tseng would have cringed. He took solace in the fact that Rufus was usually a very quiet boy and this was probably an abnormal situation. He would have to wait and see, however.

 

By the time Tseng got the boy down to the 49th floor, he'd discovered that when Rufus asked where the SOLDIER were, it was best to simply say that they were close, and he'd only have to wait a little longer. When he'd said he didn't know (because he'd never been to this floor before and he really had no idea what to expect) Rufus has simply asked “why” over and over. Tseng hoped _dearly_ that he hadn't been that annoying as a child.

 

The elevator doors opened onto a sleek floor of stainless steel and glass, thankfully a familiar setting for Tseng. He instructed Rufus to stay by his side, and walked out onto the floor, looking for a front office of some sort. He hadn't been given any specific instructions (such was the state of affairs, as of late), so he wasn't sure if he was supposed to wait for someone or go looking for a random SOLDIER who most likely hadn't been informed of any of this. He frowned and looked around, looking at the hallway fork in front of him, trying to see and figure out what was down the hall. Rufus was quiet finally, looking around at the sparse decorations and quickly getting bored with them.

 

Tseng frowned deeper. Rufus had tutoring later, and if they didn't start now then he would be late. Obviously nobody was waiting for them, so he took Rufus' hand and started down the corridor. The left hall turned in a direction he couldn’t see, so he went straight first, down a blank hallway that ran along glass-surrounded middle area that dropped into the bowels of the building. Tseng vaguely entertained the idea of someone falling through the glass into the unknown depths, and wondered what possessed the designer to put it on the floor with the most powerful fighters the company had. Rufus stood on his tiptoes to look past the glass in curiosity, and Tseng had to tug him along gently.

 

He made it to the end of the hall and turned left, again with nothing in front of him but a hallway that looked like it opened up around the corner to the right. He went further, wondering if this was just the central area, and everyone was behind some door or another. When he came to the corner he turned and looked into something that looked like a small common area with a table. The door to the right of him read “Training Room”. He figured at least _someone_ would be in there, so he pressed the pad on the wall and the door swished open.

 

He was pleased to see that there _were_ indeed people inside the room. Two scientists worked at a multitude of monitors, and muffled fighting sounds drifted out from behind glass walls. He stepped further inside and peered into the training area behind the glass (or at least he hoped it wasn’t glass, since they were wailing away in there and people could get hurt if the glass shattered), the SOLDIER inside swinging and slicing at each other and jumping away. They were indeed strong, and fast. He hadn’t seen them in action before, but he’d had his own expectations of the mako-infused soldiers--they shouldn’t be underestimated.

 

Rufus stared in awe at the fighting SOLDIER, barely able to track their movements. Tseng stood patiently, figuring that they weren’t really wasting their time watching, and the scientists didn’t seem to care enough to turn around. It wasn’t until a few minutes that one of them actually noticed them and visibly jumped. “Sir! I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there, can I help you?”

 

Tseng tried to remind himself that he was still young, and would only look the fool if he reprimanded the scientist for not paying attention. “Tseng, of the Turks. I’m told I was expected, but nobody met me at the elevator.”

 

The scientist looked confused, but nervous at the mention of the Turks. “I’ll check the schedule and let the professor know. Would you like to wait here until the professor is ready for you?”

 

Tseng nodded curtly and the scientist left. Rufus had briefly broken his trance to look at Tseng and the man talking, but immediately went back to watching the SOLDIER train. “They’re fast,” he said in a small, shy voice.

 

Tseng nodded. “They’ve been treated with mako. They’re much stronger than any of the other soldiers Shinra employs.”

 

“Even the Turks?” Rufus looked up inquisitively.

 

Tseng frowned. “SOLDIER operatives are designed to surpass even the Turks, yes. But the Turks get any job done, no matter what.” He looked down at the boy, smirking. He couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest at being able to call himself one of them.

 

“What if you had to fight a SOLDIER?” Rufus grinned.

 

Tseng frowned defensively. “We would never be ordered to do that.”

 

Rufus laughed. “You can’t! SOLDIERs are too strong. They’re the best!” He jumped when one of the SOLDIER got dangerously close to the glass, and Tseng reflexively put himself in front of Rufus.

 

The other scientist spoke matter-of-factly, “The glass is bulletproof, it won’t shatter. You can relax.” He looked back and forth from the training exercise to his monitor, inputting information.

 

Tseng scowled at the side of the scientist’s head, knowing he wouldn’t notice. He turned when he heard the door swish open again, and a man with a strained, abrasive voice spoke. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I have much more pressing things on my mind than a simple tour.” He stood slightly hunched over with his hands folded behind his back. “I’ve gathered the specimens, so if you’d follow me to the briefing room we can get this over with.” The bespectacled man waved for Tseng to follow as he turned to leave again.

 

Professor Hojo. Tseng had never met the man in person, but he’d seen photos and heard of his eccentric and cold nature. He was the type of man that put the value of his work above anything else, and because of that Shinra had benefitted greatly. Tseng knew of the risks the science department took, even only being privy to the company’s more delicate information for only a week. Hojo was not a man to underestimate.

 

Rufus however was unimpressed, and almost protested at being pulled away from the training exercise. Tseng gently led the boy back out onto the floor and followed the professor across to the Briefing Room.

 

“Behold, the greatest successes of the SOLDIER program,” Hojo said with a slight amount of flair in his voice as he walked into the room. If the two in the training room hadn’t been up to par, Tseng wondered how these SOLDIER would fare in such a simulation.

 

Inside were five young men lined up at attention, completely still and looking ahead. Four of them looked to be in their early to mid twenties, but the fifth looked maybe around Tseng’s age, his striking silver hair framing his delicate face. He was well-built like the others however, and Tseng clenched his jaw, feeling slightly inadequate. These young men were certainly made to surpass any soldier on the Planet. Tseng told himself that big muscles weren’t everything as Rufus stared in awe, saying ‘SOLDIER’ in a quiet voice.

 

Tseng recognized these men from the parade video he watched later, trying to find anything out of the ordinary. They were the best that Shinra company had to offer. The professor went on and addressed the rightmost SOLDIER. “Now… you there. Tell our guests what the SOLDIER program is designed to do.”

 

The young man spoke with a low voice with little inflection. “SOLDIER is responsible for protecting the interests of the Shinra Electric Power Company.”

 

Hojo chuckled, and Tseng tried not to cringe at his mocking tone. “Yes, indeed. And what does that entail, usually? You.” He nodded to the young man next to him.

 

The blond spoke surely and with more vigor than the first man. “We can be used as both security and as a military initiative. Shinra must protect its interests as well as those of our investors; namely, the people of Midgar and other villages that contribute resources and taxes to Shinra.”

 

“There you have it, that is the essence of the SOLDIER program,” the professor said curtly. “I take it the president is satisfied with this? We’re very busy.”

 

Tseng liked to think he was mature for his age. But he was also very good at hiding his immature spite behind the guise of his work ethic. He looked down at Rufus with a very serious expression. “Is there anything you’d like to ask them, sir?” He saw Hojo visibly shift in annoyance and resisted the urge to smirk.

 

Rufus stood timidly clinging to Tseng’s side as he chewed on a stubby finger. “Can you fly?”

 

Hojo cackled. “They may as well be able to. Tell them.” He nodded to the silver-haired boy.

 

The boy’s eyes didn’t stray from the back wall as he stated, smoothly, “We are able to jump inhuman distances and heights and use the environment around us to stay airborne for as long as necessary.”

 

Tseng translated for Rufus and said, “They can fly for short distances, sir.”

 

Rufus’ face lit up and he let loose with any question he could think of while the professor barely contained his frustration.

 

________________________________________________________

 

Once Rufus’ curiosity was sated and Tseng’s silent amusement fulfilled, the young Turk let the irritated professor return to his work. Rufus was excited again, threatening to run off down the hall before Tseng stopped him repeatedly. “Sir, we can’t run down the halls--”

 

Rufus almost ignored him, but turned to him smiling. “Can we go see Papa? I wanna play with Papa!”

 

Tseng frowned in sympathy. “Your father is very busy. You have tutoring soon, so we should hurry back up.”

 

Rufus groaned and objected, saying he wanted to go back and watch the SOLDIER more. Tseng compromised and told him that if he was good, they could go meet the Turks next. Rufus was elated and calmed himself enough to follow Tseng to the elevator again.

 

Tseng didn’t think any of the actual Turk operatives would be on the floor, but they might get to meet someone if they were lucky. And if that was insufficient, then they could head to the cadet’s wing and--Goddess forbid--meet Tseng’s former colleagues. Rufus had already met Shuriken, but the others were still a mystery to the boy.

 

Oh the Turks floor it was almost deserted, as Tseng expected. Rufus entertained himself by staring at all the sleek walls and fluorescent lights until Tseng spotted someone coming out of their office. The woman stopped and stared at them.

 

The whole conversation was a little boring, and Rufus was fussy and anxious, so Tseng left the Turk alone to go find the cadets. Rufus asked weird questions like if the Turks could fly or kick the heads off Behemoths, and if they could shoot fire out of their hands. When Tseng tried to explain that magic was possible with materia, Rufus started pretending to shoot invisible enemies. Tseng told himself that he was just playing, and there was no point in stopping him, or getting him to follow a logical train of thought.

 

There wasn’t anyone in the cadet lounge. Tseng looked around at the small room and fought a sigh. He’d been there only a week earlier, but with all the craziness of that week it felt like much longer. “It seems they aren’t here.”

 

And then the door swished open again and he was assaulted with a hug from Shuriken. “Tseng, you’re back!” She let go of him almost as fast. “They didn’t demote you, right?”

 

Tseng sputtered, both from the unexpected hug, and the preposterous idea. “No, I’m here with the president’s son, giving him a tour.”

 

Shuriken lit up and looked behind Tseng at the small boy, resting her hands on her knees. “Rufus! You remember me, right?”

 

Rufus grimaced and nodded, but Shuriken wasn’t perturbed. “Come and meet my friends! They’re really cool, I promise!”

 

Tseng found himself being dragged down the hall, protesting that this was unprofessional and he should really have been walking beside Rufus instead of the boy running along behind them, giggling away. Shuriken countered that this was one of the most secure floors of the entire building, and that he should calm down and just enjoy himself for once. Then she burst into the training room. “Guys, Tseng is here!”

 

The girl with the long, brown ponytail yelled back, “Who?” She blocked a hit from her counterpart, cursing that she’d let herself be distracted.

 

“Our friend, silly! He came to visit! I saw him come in and stalked him!” Shuriken dragged Tseng further in so they could see him.

 

The girl panted, calling a time-out. “I’m not gonna remember that name for a while, sorry.” She called to Tseng. “The heck are you doing here? You should be out doing important stuff!”

 

Tseng frowned, uncomfortable. “I’m here giving the president’s son a morning tour, then we go back to our original schedule.”

 

The girl grinned, mockingly. “Yeah, I heard about your glorified babysitter status. I get why he let you skip out on the rest of your certification, now. I’m glad he chose you, and not me.”

 

Tseng frowned, embarrassed. He hadn’t thought of it that way before, and he dearly hoped that wasn’t the case. “It’s an honor to have been entrusted with this duty.”

 

“Yep, the kind of honor that nobody else wanted--”

 

“Rod, cut it out!” Shuriken interrupted, saving a fraction of Tseng’s dignity.

 

“Fine,” the older girl said. “But one, it’s true. And two, call me Jet. If he’s using his real name, then so am I.”

 

Shuriken protested, saying they were only cadets and only real Turks made that choice, while Jet shrugged, saying she’d be promoted in no time.

 

“So,” she continued, “I presume you didn’t come down here just to see us banter? You wanna see me kick this guy’s ass?” She jerked her head in the direction of her opponent, the quiet boy with black hair.

 

Shuriken gasped. “Jet, you said a bad word!”

 

“Oh come on, the kid’s growing up around Shinra, it’s gonna be impossible to keep him from hearing that shit.”

 

Shuriken admonished her some more while Jet’s opponent--the oldest boy in the cadets--ran his hand through his unkempt hair and made his way over to Tseng and his charge. “Sir. You survived your first week, I see.”

 

It was formal, but also informal. Tseng liked it. The older boy recognized his rank, but also read the situation to be relaxed. “It has been a test of all my abilities. If it were easy, I would be disappointed.”

 

The boy nodded. “I’m glad to see you’ve done well so far. We hope to catch up, soon. Katana’s been off training by himself almost nonstop since you left.” He smirked amusedly. “You came just to give the young master a tour?”

 

Tseng nodded. “It’s important for the president’s son to be aware of the programs that Shinra Company manages.” He was aware that this was all mostly a formality, that a four-year-old wouldn’t be called upon to remember everything about these programs, but Tseng would do his job nonetheless.

 

The boy took a knee in Front of Rufus and offered a hand to him, a warm almost-smile gracing his face. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Shinra. My name is Dakota. But nobody else knows that, so don’t tell anyone.”

 

Rufus grinned, and took his hand and shook it excitedly. Most people either ignored the boy or fawned over him, or treated him with the utmost respect. Dakota treated him like the child he was, and at the same time with respect. He seemed to read situations infinitely better than Tseng did, and Tseng wondered why he hadn’t been chosen for this instead. Tseng was a little more experienced with a handgun, but surely that wasn’t everything.

 

Tseng said they had time for a short demonstration before Rufus had to head back upstairs, since the good Professor Hojo had been so stingy with his time. Katana even made his way out to watch the fight. Jet definitely put on the theatrics for the young boy in the audience, and Dakota had to go all out to defend against her onslaught. Rufus was pleased, no matter the outcome. He was content with watching people fly around and hit each other.

 

Eventually Tseng had to pull the boy back to his daily schedule, much to Rufus’ dismay. The boy had been rather spoiled in the morning and hadn’t been able to focus on anything that needed doing, and by the end of the day he was moody and irritable.

 

The nanny went to go gather a few toys while Rufus sat on the floor of his room, and Tseng stood in the corner keeping watch like he usually did. Rufus messed with his shoelaces, trying to untie and tie them himself with a deep frown on his face, before asking in a small voice, “Tseng, is mommy mad at me?”

 

Tseng blinked, and frowned. “No sir, why would you think that?”

 

Rufus sniffed. Oh no. “She said she would never leave. But she left. I made her leave.”

 

Shit. Was there any way to make him feel better, to get through this conversation without making him cry? “Sir, your mother didn’t leave because of you.”

 

Rufus jerked his head up to look at Tseng with tears in his eyes. “Then why did she leave? Why won’t she come back?” He started to cry, and Tseng stood there, uselessly. He wasn’t trained for this. It wasn’t his job.

 

Thankfully, the nanny was, and she took over immediately. “You can call for the guards, sir. I’ll put him to bed.”

 

Tseng nodded, thanking her, and called for security to be posted outside the doors. Then he went out, trying to ignore Rufus’ cries for his mother.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Tseng kicked the bag, hard, grunting when it barely moved. He still wasn’t strong enough to protect anyone, not really. Someone bigger than him could easily take him out if his skills failed him.

 

Once he’d witnessed the guards posted outside Rufus’ door, Tseng had made a beeline for the Turks floor. This was the only time he had to train, even if it wasn’t good for his sleep schedule. Their trainers had stressed exercising at _latest_ two hours before bed to avoid sleep problems, and Tseng was getting dangerously close to his bedtime. But he had to keep training. Not doing so just… wasn’t an option.

 

And after a week of insanity, he was exhausted enough that he didn’t have any trouble getting to sleep. So that was a plus.

 

He punched the bag, each time getting harder and harder until he felt the acid build up in his muscles. If he just went a little longer, than he would be that much stronger when he was done. He couldn’t stop, not until he could barely stand--

 

He growled and punched as hard as he could, sending the bag swinging finally. Good. He’d never been able to move it that much.

 

The door to the training room slid open with the familiar airy swoosh, and he turned. Shuriken walked in, carrying her weapon. “Hey, I wasn’t expecting you here! I thought you could, you know, use the other training rooms.”

 

Tseng wiped his brow, panting lightly. “I could. I just know these better.” He couldn’t mention that he was still incredibly shy around the other Turks. He never came into contact with them during the day, and it would be really awkward to suddenly meet in a training room at night.

 

Shuriken nodded, an eyebrow raised. “Uh-huh… So why are you here so late?”

 

Tseng frowned. “It’s all the time I have. My assignment takes the whole day.”

 

Shuriken frowned in sympathy. “What do they have you do?”

 

Tseng punched at the bag again. “It doesn’t look hard, until he starts crying. On paper I’m his bodyguard, but Jet was right. I’m really just a glorified babysitter, and I always have to improvise what to do because I’m not trained for it.” He punched again. “None of this is in my job description, and I can’t do anything to help sometimes. I just stand there, useless.” He punched again, harder, and grunted with exertion.

 

Shuriken treaded carefully, biting her lip. “You’re frustrated?”

 

Tseng stopped punching, and panted. “He’s not getting what he needs, and I can’t give it to him. He doesn’t need a bodyguard, he needs his mother.”

 

Shuriken frowned at the floor. “But his mom’s dead…”

 

And uncomfortable silence filled the air as they mulled over that. Tseng hadn’t even realized the way he’d felt until he’d voiced it to Shuriken--he was frustrated. His whole position seemed useless. Rufus needed a mother to take care of him, not some teenager to walk around and keep him safe from nothing while keeping him company.

 

“Do you want to spar? It might help.”

 

Tseng sighed. Worrying about something he couldn’t change wouldn’t do any good. “I don’t know.”

 

Shuriken gave a hesitant grin. “You already look exhausted, so I’ll go easy on you.”

 

Tseng grimaced lopsidedly, then agreed--not before letting her he wouldn’t go easy on her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This building is designed terribly. Where the crap is the Turks floor!? I know they have their own headquarters, but they do work at the building. Urgh. I mean, the Headquarters location isn’t supposed to be known by anyone right? So they can’t work out of there all the time or people will find out they’re in the freaking basement. Who put them there, anyway? Did Veld just say “Hey nobody will ever expect that the secret HQ of the Department of Administrative Research is actually in the basement of Shinra HQ.” Whatever, Veld. You do you. I’m done now, until next time!!


	6. Conflicted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rufus Shinra's environment does not foster healthy development, not really. This is why he turns into a warmongerer with sociopathic tendencies. I had to read all my Child Development notes again for this. Also, more development of the Turk Cadets? I love the Turks okay.

Conflicted

 

Tseng found himself getting used to his situation, finding some sort of normalcy. After a few months, Shinra’s organization grew less convoluted and more efficient, and Tseng received more specific orders. Where he was to “take the president’s son down to Floor 49 and introduce him to the SOLDIER program” before, now he had specific instructions on how to do so. He would go at a predetermined time and meet a predetermined person, and while that person or persons dealt with Rufus, Tseng was to stand and guard him, and not let his guard down for a second. It was much simpler, and Tseng had less and less instances where he was forced to improvise. He never had any doubts about what he was supposed to do anymore.

 

When he felt himself get disappointed in the simplicity of his job, he reminded himself how stressful it had been before.

 

Rufus was still problematic during his tutoring sessions, and had Tseng had the authority he would have recommended a different tutor. The man looked like he wasn’t used to teaching small children, let alone children who could outsmart him. It was both amusing and painful to watch. However this time the man wouldn’t budge when Rufus tried to trick him into playing, and Rufus wasn’t having any of it. He’d done a few of his assignments, but none of them really stuck. He could copy letters and words onto a paper but he couldn’t read them, and hen the tutor held up pictures to go with the word, Rufus would ignore him. Maybe if the man had made it more fun, Rufus would get more work done. But it wasn’t Tseng’s place to make suggestions.

 

The nanny looked to be young enough to not have a family of her own to look after, but one could never be sure. How could she spend so much time with a child that wasn’t hers? Maybe she liked her job? Or maybe she had no choice? Tseng tried his best to help her out whenever he could. So when the tutor left--masking his frustration with a fake smile in Tseng’s direction--and Rufus asked if Lisa could take him down to the library and read to him, Tseng said he would take Rufus himself so she could rest.

 

Sure it wasn’t his job, but… She looked really tired, and this was Rufus’ free time, so technically he could do whatever he wanted as long as Tseng was with him.

 

As it turned out, Rufus knew exactly what he wanted to hear about, and he was a very attentive listener when he got his way. Tseng hoped that nobody noticed him doing such a thing and accused him of getting too close. In his defense, nothing else worked! There wasn’t much of a selection for children in the Shinra building’s library, but Rufus was content with hearing the same stories over and over again if he liked them.

 

“That’s so cute!" Shuriken exclaimed. "I'm so jealous of you!” Tseng had caved and told Shuriken during one of their nightly sparring sessions. “I’d love to take care of him, he’s so cute! Are you sure you’re doing it right?”

 

Oh no. She was about to give him advice. He didn’t fight it. “I don’t know, I’m just doing what he asks me to do.”

 

Shuriken huffed. “You’re supposed to be challenging him! Otherwise he’ll fall behind in, de… de…”

 

“Developmentally?” Tseng offered.

 

“Yes, thank you! You have to ask him questions about the story! It’s more fun that way.”

 

Tseng frowned. “How do you know this?”

 

Shuriken shrugged. “It’s just what you do. I grew up in an orphanage, remember? I like reading to kids.” She smiled. “Gotcha!”

 

Tseng gritted his teeth against her surprise attack. “You can’t grill me on child development and expect me to have my guard up!”

 

Shuriken laughed and told him that Turks get the job done, no matter what. So he read to Rufus, and tried to think of questions to ask him. She was right, it was kind of fun.

 

He really hoped Veld didn’t walk in on them one day.

 

________________________________________________

 

He hadn’t noticed it before. He hadn’t even considered it. And nobody had told him. He would have expected that someone would have made a bigger deal--or _any_ deal for that matter--about Rufus’ birthday.

 

He’d turned four the week after Tseng was hired. He’d noticed Rufus’ date of birth on an area of paperwork that he’d never fully examined before. Tseng had thought he was already four? He’d never asked. He’d never had to know. And Rufus hadn’t reminded him because, well, if the child was only four he probably hadn’t even remembered his own birthday. Rufus was too young to even know what he was missing.

 

It just seemed a little sad. Not even the president had given him any instructions on how to spend the child’s birthday. But if Rufus didn’t notice, then it was still okay right? Tseng had never placed much merit in birthdays, but the culture in Midgar did. But Rufus wouldn’t learn the day’s importance unless someone taught him. But it wasn’t Tseng’s place.

 

It was really sad. The logical part of his brain told him not to meddle, but the part of him that _felt things_ told him to let the nanny know discreetly.

 

________________________________________________

 

A year had passed before Tseng could even process it. His job wasn’t hard, and there weren’t many things a four-year-old was required to do on a daily basis, but Tseng never really paid attention to the days. As a Turk, and a relatively unimportant member of the Shinra staff, holidays and other markers of time passage didn’t apply to him. And soon it was September again, and Tseng remembered what had happened the year before.

 

Rufus had adjusted eventually. He’d stopped crying for his mother and rarely talked about her. What troubled Tseng was that he didn’t seem to understand that she was gone forever. He would talk about how he was going to find her one day, or save her from the bad people, or some other scenario he’d made up in his head. Tseng hadn’t ever corrected him. Even if he had, Rufus would have immediately forgotten about it.

 

Rufus hadn’t seen his father for more than a few seconds at a time during the past year. Rufus had cried the first time they’d met in the hall one day, and the president had ignored him. Tseng was amazed at how quickly Lisa could get him to calm down. And finally once, when Rufus was called to attend a social gathering, his father had told him to stand quietly next to Tseng and not move a muscle. Rufus hadn’t said a word the whole time, and he clung to Tseng’s hand like a lifeline.

 

Tseng didn’t see the point of the president alienating his son, but he also understood the immense stress the man was being put under. Relations with Wutai were only getting worse. The people wanted a war, and Shinra was doing its best to keep negotiations afloat. At least, that’s what it showed on the screens. From what Tseng could tell, Shinra wanted to place a reactor in Wutai and the people of Wutai wouldn’t have it. Either way, it was an incredibly stressful . Having a small child to deal with would only complicate matters.

 

Tseng couldn’t help but think, with the part of his brain that felt things, that the president could have kept his son in his life if he’d really wanted to. But it wasn’t his place to comment.

 

If Tseng hadn’t known why, he would have been happy to notice Rufus growing ever more reserved. Every time the boy saw his father he was silent, as if waiting for instructions. It was the one setting where Rufus would never misbehave, not once. He looked afraid to make a mistake, so he didn’t do anything at all. And the president didn’t notice. He was only happy that the boy was quiet and didn’t cause any trouble.

 

Tseng realized that Rufus had stopped crying. It was just a passing thought the first time, but once when Rufus was upset and had started to look like he might cry, and he wiped his eyes instead and grew silent, Tseng noticed. He couldn’t explain why it felt wrong. Children cried, right? He was too young to care about that.

 

And then the question came again.

 

“Tseng,” the boy started, as he was coloring in a coloring book one evening. “Did Mommy die?”

 

Tseng felt his blood run cold and he froze. Luckily, the nanny had heard and she took care of it much better than he would have. She explained that yes, Mother had died and she was at peace. Rufus asked where she was and if he could bring her back. Lisa said no, because his mother had returned to the Planet. Rufus asked what happened when someone died, how Mommy got food, and if she could still speak. He asked if she could still see him.

 

Lisa was as close a thing to a mother that the boy had, and Tseng was grateful for her level head and caring intuition. He would have never been able to deal with those questions. It wasn’t his job. But it still hurt to hear them.

 

Tseng tried not to notice the drawings, but Lisa explained that it was natural. To Tseng’s relief, Rufus also drew happy pictures where he was holding hands with a smiling President Shinra and a ghostly-green woman labeled “Mommy”. He assumed that this was in response to the president’s complete neglect of his son. Tseng forced those thoughts away.

 

Lisa had made sure to remember they boy’s fifth birthday, even if the president didn’t. It wasn’t against the rules after all; the nanny could pretty much use her judgment and do whatever a mother would. When she showed him the cake she’d gotten for him, Rufus actually brightened, and gave her a hug around the middle. He was glad to have something special, albeit for only part of the day, and it was difficult to keep him from eating the whole cake. He looked like he might be warming up to the nanny at least.

 

Rufus still pestered Tseng relentlessly though, asking if they could go outside the building somewhere, or some place he’d seen on TV. Tseng said when they were given a vacation day, and the permission to do so, he’d take Rufus anywhere. Although he was used to their routine, it was solely confined to the building and he completely understood Rufus’ desire to explore. Was this how it was always going to be? Tseng sometimes wondered if he really had been shoved under the rug with his promotion. Would he ever get any exciting missions? He took most of his frustration out on the punching bags so it didn’t affect his mood while he worked.

 

One day after Rufus had gone to bed, Shuriken ambushed Tseng in the stairwell. “Hah!” she exclaimed. “I knew you were here!”

 

Tseng would have been startled if he hadn’t heard her coming from below. “Have you been stalking me?”

 

Shuriken grinned. “Your schedule hasn’t deviated in an entire _year_ , I didn’t have to stalk you.”

 

Tseng raised an eyebrow.

 

“But I did anyway.”

 

Tseng sighed. “Hello, you got me. Now let’s go train.”

 

Shuriken shook her head. “Not until I tell you something!”

 

Tseng waited impatiently, almost tapping his foot. The girl held out an envelope and instructed him to open it. He carefully pulled the adhesive flap up without tearing the whole thing, and pulled out what looked like a card. Shaped like a cat. Okay then. On the front it said ‘You’re pretty sweet.’ He frowned, and opened it up, and was assaulted with the sound of a thousand mewling kittens. He actually jumped.

 

Shuriken cackled. “Happy birthday! Read it!”

 

It said ‘...but kittens are sweeter so I got you like fifty. Happy Birthday!” And then in Shuriken’s flowing letters she’d written ‘Happy 15th, since I forgot last year!!’

 

He stared, and forgot the looping track of kittens in the background. He’d almost forgotten.

 

Shuriken cackled. “Your face is priceless! I wish I could take a picture. Give me your phone and I can.”

 

Tseng objected, but thanked her, blushing. It wasn’t his way to get gifts for his birthday, but it was still nice to know that she was thinking of him. He thought about being a little more thoughtful towards her. He would have to figure out when her birthday was and surprise her as well.

________________________________________________

 

Rufus wanted to go to school.

 

He saw television programs where children went to school in their village. They always had a lot of fun and Rufus asked when he would get to go. Tseng had to explain that 1) the cartoon was depicting the village of Kalm, which was not where they were, and 2) he was the president’s son and he would probably be homeschooled for the entirety of his education. Lisa helped when Rufus objected and bordered on a small tantrum.

 

Rufus wanted friends. He asked if Tseng would take him to a place where he could play with other children. Tseng put it in his report for the day so that Veld could inform the president. Perhaps the man would finally take an interest in his own son?

 

The president had gradually begun to see his son more, mostly at social and political events though, where the boy was instructed to be silent and pay attention. And it looked like Rufus was actually trying to pay attention. If he didn’t understand what was going on, he at least feigned interest in hopes that his father would be happy. And finally, at a dinner with some investors, the president let Rufus sit next to him as long as he was quiet. Tseng stood behind the boy and tried to ignore how tense the atmosphere felt between them, and Palmer’s yapping mouth from where he sat next to the president’s son.

 

After about twenty minutes, Rufus found a break in the conversation between his father and an investor on his right. Rufus tapped his father’s sleeve.

 

“What is it?” He didn’t look annoyed, that was a good sign.

 

Rufus motioned for him to lean down so he could whisper in his ear. Tseng could still hear from where he was standing. “Palmer is stinky.”

 

The president let out a bark of laughter. “He is, isn’t he?” He lowered his voice for the next part, so Palmer wouldn’t hear. “Just sit for dinner a little longer, and you’ll be free of him.”

 

Rufus smiled, and giggled. That small exchange was enough for him.

 

Rufus didn’t convince his father to let him go to school, but it did give the president an idea for both social interaction and physical activity. There was an indoor sports association for all the upper-class families on the Plate, and he enrolled Rufus in a soccer league. Once a week, Rufus went to the city indoor sports arena for practice, and he learned to kick a ball around with the kids of other wealthy families.

 

The problem was, none of the other kids liked him.

 

Tseng stood close by while practice went on, watching. The children were young, a good age to start doing anything involving discipline, even if they weren’t particularly any good at it. The children seemed to avoid him. It wasn’t that Rufus was the president’s son, either--none of the other children were old enough to care about something like that. It was that Rufus was quiet and reserved, and was slow to leave his comfort zone. He never went to talk to other children, and he only seemed interested in learning the game. His level of focus was much greater than that of many of the other children, and his unintentional snubbing may have pushed them away.

 

In addition to that, their parents were all caught up in the politics of the city, and their children were victims of that. So not only were the children put off by Rufus’ atypical behavior, but their parents had probably told them to treat him nicely, as if he were special. This all created a situation that was confusing and unnatural, and it generally didn’t feel very good for anyone involved. But that was politics, Tseng had found. And since this was not what Rufus had wanted, he very timidly asked his father if he could quit. The president refused, saying he should learn some discipline and learn to do things he didn’t want to do.

 

However after Rufus’ continued struggle with the team sport he agreed to enroll the boy in something more individually-focused. Rufus learned to swim, tried fencing but was too weak and mild-mannered to stand against his hyperactive five-year-old opponents, and they even looked at chocobo racing (after which the president had rejected it, calling it a barbaric sport). Eventually Tseng very humbly suggested martial arts. Rufus started the next day.

 

However the president had enrolled Rufus in the new Shinra Military Academy, where they usually didn’t take children younger than nine. He figured if Rufus was going to learn martial arts, it may as well be from his own military department. Tseng would have objected if it were his place, but when he watched Rufus excel as fast as the other children, he changed his mind. It was a place of little external motivation and reward, so the other children had little to disparage the young boy for. To their credit, they decided that picking a fight with a five-year-old would have been unseemly, and focused on their own progress.

 

It was strange. Rufus was learning a discipline that Tseng was familiar with. They now had something in common. Tseng was proud every time Rufus learned something new. It was strange.

 

________________________________________________

 

Tseng learned a week after it happened that the two oldest recruits, Jet and Dakota, had been promoted to full Turk status. They were the second-youngest in history at seventeen years old, a fact Jet flaunted to anyone who would listen.

 

He never got to see them though, because they were being sent on missions along with the other Turks. Tseng frowned, pushing his conflicted feelings away as he returned to reading his schedule. Apparently the president had approved plans for renovating a few of the topmost floors of the building, and the Turks would be moving to Floor 69. The plans also included the 70th floor, and the president and his son would relocate to a penthouse in the middle of the city. Tseng was to accompany the boy to his new estate and help him settle in. He would have continued to serve as Rufus’ bodyguard just as before--at least until Veld had decided to intervene.

 

“I've tried to convince the president that his son doesn't need a Turk operative as a bodyguard if he's just going to be in his room,” the commander explained, the day of the move. “Security can be used to guard the room while you do other work.”

 

Tseng was stunned. “You mean I'll be getting another assignment?”

 

“Initially, that was the plan. The most important thing right now though is to get you enough time to train and keep your skills sharp. I noticed you can't have been doing that with your current workload.”

 

“Ah... yes, sir.”

 

And that was that. Tseng felt disappointed, and not in the way he would have thought. He was disappointed when he didn’t get an assignment right away, but he was confused to find that he was _more_ disappointed about having to leave Rufus for longer than usual. He hadn’t realized that he had accepted his role, and he’d actually grown attached to the boy. Nobody knew Rufus like he did, not even the boy’s own father. Who would be able to treat him as well as Tseng did? Nobody cared to think about Rufus like that except for him.

 

Nevertheless he had to focus on his work, no matter what the task was. While he was with Rufus he would focus on that, and while he was pulled away on another assignment he would focus on that. He couldn’t think about all the things Rufus needed and wasn’t getting, or how the escalating tension with Wutai would affect him. He couldn’t think about how it would affect his family.

 

There had been a lot of people angry at Shinra when he left home. That was partly the reason he did so, to get away from the hate and the unrest to find purpose again. His parents were among the ones against war, and they’d approved of him pursuing a life of discipline and sacrifice. He had sworn an oath, and they would understand if he never returned, not even to save his own family from the very company he worked for.

 

He had seen both sides of the conflict, and neither was without fault. Both were ready to shed blood rather than compromise, ready to send countless innocents to their deaths over their own stubborn pride. Tseng hoped that Shinra at least, with its immense and greater wealth and power, would use it wisely to put an end to the bloodshed quickly.

 

He helped Rufus settle into his new estate and was relieved by Shinra Security. He tried not to think about Rufus’ look of disappointment when he left. He tried not to think about the missions he would be sent on, and how he’d probably be spying on his own people soon. They weren’t his people anymore. All he had was the company.

 

He kept his friends close. They’d all need each other if things went badly.

 

________________________________________________

 

Tseng wasn’t around as much anymore. He was busy with the Turks, fighting the bad people. He couldn’t play with Rufus anymore.

 

That was okay. He could play by himself. He wasn’t a baby anymore. He still missed him though. Tseng only came when he had to go someplace. He didn’t take Rufus to the library anymore because they had one in the house. Those were boring books though. Lisa tried to read to him, but she wasn’t as good as Tseng was. She treated him like a baby, and chose really easy books. Sometimes he read faster than she did!

 

He wanted to show Father how fast he was learning, but he couldn’t read anything really impressive. He didn’t want to read to Father until he could read _everything._ Then Father would be proud of him.

 

One night he had woken up and noticed that Father was back home. He had gotten up to go see, and was prepared to be scolded, but Father had been in a good mood and even showed him some of the plans for the Shinra building renovations. He tried to read them to impress Father, but he couldn’t read anything, and when he’d asked where the escape route was Father had only laughed at him. He said he’d make an escape route, but only for Rufus himself to use when he was president. He would mark it “L” for “Loser”.

 

At least he hadn’t made Father angry. But he would show Father he wasn’t a loser. Father had said there was no guarantee that he would be president, and Rufus would prove to him that he could do it. He’d be the best president, and control the whole world and fix all the problems. Then Father would be proud of him. Then he wouldn’t be sad any longer and they could be happy,

 

He would take care of everything one day. And if Mother was watching, then she would be proud, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fit in that conversation he had with his father when he was five :) I can't wait until Rufus is old enough to have intelligent conversations B) Old enough to be an ASSHOLE. Ahem.


	7. On The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rufus reads really difficult books and fails at it, Tseng goes on a Real Bona Fide Misson, and there are 33 Screaming Frogs. Also the Wutai War starts here. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

On The Job

 

"So... I'm guessing Jet isn't your real name." Tseng dodged a kick at his head and countered with a punch to the abdomen.

 

Jet dodged easily. "Sure it is. My mom was creative. She had high hopes for me to be the fastest Turk alive," she smirked.

 

Tseng smirked back. “Right.” He dodged as she threw a punch, then another. Tseng now had a lot of time to train and prepare for missions (or prepare for the time when he was finally assigned to one), and he found training with his fellow Turks to be very productive. Half of them were busy, or they ignored him, but a couple were willing to help train and ready him for when he was assigned missions of his own.

 

“Why did you join the Turks?” he asked his opponent.

 

Jet gave a short laugh. “Is that even a question? So I could kick ass.”

 

Tseng forced himself to stay focused instead of getting frustrated. She really would kick his ass. “That’s really the only reason?” He dodged another kick.

 

“You want a serious answer? Ask in another century.”

 

Tseng scowled. “Of course, I forgot you can’t be serious even for a second," he said with no hidden amount of annoyance.

 

Jet sighed. “Alright, fine. Most people do stuff like this for the money. The money’s great. And maybe they wanna help people a little bit. I don’t really care. And the others don't care either. They care about is getting the job done without getting asked stupid questions. So all _you_ gotta worry about is not pissing them off. They’ll make your life hell.” She’d somehow caught his meaning behind the question--asking for advice on the other Turks. He hadn’t even hinted at it yet, but she knew. So she _did_ think ahead sometimes.

 

Tseng punched and kicked again. “Like they’re doing with you?”

 

Jet attacked with more vigor. “I don’t work in teams, and they’ve got a problem with that. So I’m gonna show them I can do the job alone!” she fumed.

 

Tseng smirked. She may have worked with the others on more occasions, but he was a better strategist. He could do more with less information on his superiors than she could. He only hoped that when he was finally assigned a mission that he could work well with whomever was chosen to guide him. He would like to say he could do whatever was necessary by himself, but he liked having a model to work from.

 

The timer on his phone beeped from the bench in the training room. He stopped, panting, and stepped back from his opponent.

 

Jet grinned cheekily. “Have fun, mister babysitter.”

 

Tseng scowled at her and went off to shower.

 

______________________________________________________

 

The renovations were more extensive than Tseng had previously thought. The top three floors would be completely rearranged, for security purposes it was told. The Turks would be moved to Floor 69.

 

He still wondered who had designed the building. Sure it put the Turks closer to the executives, but the archives were stored on floor 45, which wasn’t even within the restricted area above floor 59. Anybody could walk in there and gain access to all of Shinra’s personnel files, budget reports, security passwords--

 

But it wasn’t his job to advise the president on his building layout. Veld had probably been doing that already, without favorable result.

 

Since his recent change in duties, and the start of the renovations, Tseng had been assigned an apartment in Sector 4, where most of Shinra’s employees lived. It was compact and spatially-efficient, designed to fit a lot of one-occupant apartments in as little space as possible. It was good for what he needed it for; he went there to sleep, prepare for the next day, and then didn’t return until after nightfall.

 

So his schedule consisted largely of training, except when he accompanied Rufus to his activities and duties. That, and Rufus seemed reluctant to let Tseng go, and asked to do certain things during free time that required a bodyguard. And of course, Tseng could never say no.

 

He’d definitely grown attached to the boy. If nothing else, he felt an obligation to help raise Rufus to be strong and independent in an environment that did nothing to foster those qualities. Rufus was encouraged to leave the difficult things to the adults, and nobody paid enough attention to the boy to help nurture him. They were content to let him just... be. Tseng noticed that Lisa the nanny was nice, but she only acted like she cared for Rufus' benefit. He wasn’t surprised; Shinra tended to suck the passion and ambition out of people. It especially affected the young boy, and Tseng really noticed one day when they went out for ice cream.

 

Usually when Rufus got to go outside and do something out in the city, he was overly excited and difficult to control. But that day, Rufus was quiet. Tseng didn't want to press, but he worried for the boy--just a little. "Sir, is something wrong?"

 

Rufus gave him a noncommittal shrug, but then looked up. "Can we go to the library today?"

 

Tseng blinked. "For a while, yes. You have your studies later, of course."

 

Rufus grumbled. "I like the library better. Mr. Felson is stupid."

 

The corner of Tseng’s mouth twitched in amusement. He had to set a good example. "He is an accomplished tutor, and you're lucky to have him. Now finish your ice cream, and you'll have more time in the library, Sir."

 

Rufus licked so fast he got brain freeze. Tseng hoped that the quiet spell was just that, a spell. He’d be excitable again soon enough.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Though Tseng had hoped that Rufus would snap out of his quiet spell before, he now noticed that the boy had “excitable spells” where he would lighten up and express himself like he had when he was younger. Whereas he had been a mostly sociable and extroverted boy before, Rufus had grown reserved and shy in a very short time, even around Tseng and other people he was familiar with. It hadn’t been a quiet spell at all; Rufus’ personality had done a complete turnaround.

 

Tseng supposed it was only natural, with so much being expected of him. The president still spent only minimal amounts of time around his son, and most of the time they were during meetings or boring investor parties. Tseng stood through such functions while Rufus sat quietly watching, not daring to make a fuss, just waiting to be addressed by his father.

 

At almost six years old, he was starting to understand that time would never come. At least, it wouldn't in the way he wanted.

 

It wasn’t Tseng’s job. It wasn’t his problem. However he couldn’t help but think he could steer Rufus in a different direction if he tried. But it wasn’t his place. All he could do was watch as Rufus grew up far too quickly for his own good.

 

It wasn’t all uncomfortable, fortunately. Most people simply complimented Rufus on his good behavior when he wouldn’t say a word. A quiet child was a good child, to them. And when he received praise, Rufus smiled. Tseng had no place thinking badly of something that made Rufus happy. The boy had even found an interest in memorizing dates. He seemed to be taken with history, always asking how old things were or when things were founded, or who had made something and when. Tseng rarely had any answer for him, and he made it a point to research all he could in order to remedy that.

 

Tseng’s education at home had been exceptional of course, but there were times when he felt less than adequate speaking to his elders. This was made more apparent one day in the library (Rufus had been dismissed from his martial arts class early and _begged_ to go to the Shinra library for a while) when Rufus complained about having to read “kiddy books”, and requested something more difficult.

 

Tseng raised an eyebrow. Rufus had been progressing quickly, and was certainly above the average reading level of an almost-six-year-old, but he wasn’t perfect. “Are you sure, sir? This book is already for ages seven to ten.”

 

Rufus frowned, unamused. “It’s too easy. Can I pick a different book?”

 

Tseng didn’t bother to remind him that he was still struggling with some of the words. “Alright, go ahead, sir.” He figured Rufus would do better if he discovered his own abilities for himself, rather than having someone (like that abysmal tutor of his) telling him what he was or wasn’t allowed to study at what times.

 

He regretted it somewhat when Rufus came back with a literature classic that was probably reserved for university students, or at the very least Senior-level students. He hadn’t even studied it yet, since he’d dropped his studies after joining Shinra. He frowned as Rufus opened the book to a random page, hoping he would be able to help the boy at least.

 

In short, he couldn’t. When he saw words like ‘prognosticate’ and ‘salient’, he could figure out a meaning for them from the context, but he wasn’t sure. He decided he should probably work on his vocabulary if he was going to be taken seriously. Meanwhile, Rufus was not even six years old and he was sounding out those words. He wouldn’t understand the meaning no matter how much Tseng explained, of course, but his pronunciation had clearly grown more distinguishable. Adults praised the small boy for speaking clearly, so he paid careful attention to the syllables he struggled through. Still, he was _six._ He shouldn’t have had to worry about pleasing the adults in such a manner.

 

After about thirty minutes of struggling through the first page, Rufus pushed the book away with a frustrated huff, said it was boring, and went to go get a different one. To Tseng’s relief, he went for a book that was still much too difficult for him, but not for Tseng. It was a popular story among young adults, though Tseng hadn’t had a chance to read it. He didn’t have time for fiction, anymore.

 

He helped Rufus break apart larger words into smaller ones so he could figure out the meaning, and even if he wouldn’t remember them after the day was done it was nice nonetheless. He also showed the boy how to look up words on the computer. It really wasn’t his job to help Rufus read, but it was one small thing he could get away with. When they left, he helped Rufus check out a few books that were more catered to his reading level. Rufus was stubborn at first, insisting they were too easy, but he relented when Tseng told him how proud everyone would be when he showed off all the books he could read. He started practicing every day after that, no matter how easy the book was.

 

Tseng let himself feel proud of his charge. He deserved that, right? The uncomfortable thoughts about how Rufus was growing up too fast left his mind.

 

______________________________________________________

 

For Rufus’ sixth birthday, he asked to go to the park they passed by every time they went to the Military Academy for his training class. Again, nothing special had been planned for his birthday, but Rufus remembered that the day had been special the year before. Maybe Lisa would make a cake again? Tseng decided not to ask, just in case it was a surprise.

 

Rufus stared at the other children on the playground, as if he wanted to join them but he didn’t actually know _how_ to do so. Tseng raised an eyebrow, and offered a suggestion, even if he wasn’t especially well-versed in playing with other children either. “Do you want to join their game, sir?”

 

Rufus frowned. “I don’t know what they’re playing.”

 

Tseng had to bite back an amused smile. “You could ask them, sir. I’m sure you could learn it very quickly.”

 

Rufus frowned, almost pouting, then gave Tseng his jacket and ran over to ask one of the children.

 

Tseng hoped he was having fun, at least. He’d never played with other children much himself. He understood the appeal, but he was more interested in honing his own skills than playing. That, and he didn’t connect with the other children as well as he would have liked.

 

Sure enough, Rufus came trotting back, a frown on his face after about an hour. Tseng raised an eyebrow. “Did the game end, sir?”

 

Rufus shook his head. “We were just chasing girls. It was stupid.”

 

Tseng bit back a laugh. It seemed he had another thing in common with his charge. “Would you like to go to the library then, sir?”

 

Rufus lit up. Tseng supposed that was a yes.

 

______________________________________________________

 

After months of not knowing where they would end up, the Turks finally had an answer. They had known they were being moved to the 69th floor, however, they hadn’t known the floor plan at all or what facilities they would still have.

 

Apparently Floor 69 was still a lobby to the 70th, where executives and their assistants worked. And the Turks were being shoved off in a corner of the floor, in a small office area with a tiny lounge and not enough offices for all the Turks. And the cadets were no longer housed in the building. They were being moved to the Military Academy under the name of the Department of Administrative Research: Secondary Division.

 

At least they were moving all the training equipment elsewhere, instead of having it being seized by General Affairs to supplement Heidegger’s budget. The cadets got their equipment moved to the Academy, and the rest was moved to Headquarters--the location of which Tseng wasn’t privy to, yet. As a very low-level Turk himself, he was one of them that didn’t even get an office on the new floor. Not that he needed one; most of his paperwork he did in the lounge anyway, then turned in to the commander. It was the principle of the entire department being shoved off into a corner that rubbed him and the others the wrong way. The Turks were the covert ops of Shinra Company, and they were being treated as a nuisance.

 

Veld, however, shut down those sentiments quickly. “Our work is of a clandestine nature, and the president thought it would be better for us to have a smaller presence within the building itself,” he said.

 

“Bullshit,” Jet muttered to herself and her fellow young Turks.

 

Tseng wanted to elbow her in the side, but the commander preempted him. “As for the young ones who would be robbed of their training opportunities, you will be given access to Headquarters as soon as everything is finished being moved over. I need not remind you that it is forbidden to speak of Headquarters to anyone who is not already privy to that information, and that transgressors will be dealt with in a swift and efficient manner.”

 

Jet stared in awe and looked to Tseng and Dakota, then back to Veld. Tseng could hardly believe it, either. They all nodded in acknowledgement, unable to find words.

 

Veld nodded. “Good. You are all dismissed.”

 

Three days later the moving was finished, and they were taken to Headquarters--beneath Shinra’s basement. It was a secret floor deep underground that each member needed a special keycard to get to, and even still there were various security checkpoints behind a hidden door. After the final checkpoint, it opened up into a massive surveillance room with feeds coming in from all over the world. Shinra was able to supervise every institution owned by Shinra on the face of the Planet.

 

Tseng suddenly realized why not even the president knew the location of their headquarters. He didn’t want to be connected to this level of surveillance, should the public ever find out about the dirty work his Department of Administrative Research conducted on a daily basis. He’d deny involvement with this branch of the department and throw them all to the wolves. Therefore, it was in all of their best interests to keep this place a secret from anyone and everyone who wasn’t in their ranks.

 

They all accepted this knowledge solemnly, realizing the gravity of what they’d just been granted. There was no turning back, now.

 

Of course, this meant that in order for the initiated Turks to train, they no longer had their facilities up on the 69th floor where their offices were. They would have to make their way all the way down to the basement if they wanted to get any real work done. Most of the higher level Turks simply accepted missions to keep themselves out of the office, but all of them usually had business on the 69th floor at one time or another. This meant a lot of waiting in a possibly-crowded elevator, or taking the impossibly long flight of stairs up and down.

 

Going down the first time was easy enough. But the first time Tseng made his way back up, the only thing that kept him from quitting and taking the elevator was the possibility that he might meet Scarlet, alone, and that was not an option. And so, he resolved to become independent of the elevator, even if it killed him. He could barely walk the following day.

 

He did the math. Each landing had eight steps, and there were two landings between each floor. It took about two big steps to round the corners (those took twice the amount of time), so each flight had an equivalent of twenty-four steps between them. If he took steps at a steady pace, with each step at about 240 beats per minute, he could go between the first floor landing and the 60th floor in exactly six minutes. After that, to get to the floors above, he had to unlock the door using his keycard and make his way over to the executive staircase, so he didn’t count that in any of his figures. Six minutes from bottom to top, and that was if he was steady. He began his work.

 

One day around the 30th floor, he met Jet on her way down. He could tell it was her before she met him because she was impossibly loud, almost jumping over the bannisters or taking the flights an entire landing at a time. “Hey,” she paused in front of him. “You trying to beat the record, too?”

 

Tseng paused, panting hard. “Record?” Even if there was a record, he still couldn’t make it all the way at a steady pace, so there was no way he would win. His legs were still healing from the abuse he put them through day after day.

 

Jet grinned. “I’m tied with Dakota at 9:50 up, 5:33 down. One of the older guys has an up record of 7:26 and I'm gonna beat it. Eventually. Once I stop dying.” She smirked as if she weren’t in constant pain all the time.

 

Tseng gave her an incredulous look. “I had no idea there was a competition.”

 

“Well there is! What’s your time?”

 

“I haven’t been timing it.”

 

Jet scoffed. “Too good for that?”

 

Tseng frowned, offended. “No, I just haven’t been timing because I know I’m not as fast as I want to be.”

 

“So you _are_ competing!”

 

“With myself, yes.” He moved to pass her. He’d already wasted enough time talking, and he had paperwork to do.

 

“Time it next time, I wanna see how badly we’re kicking your ass!” Tseng winced as Jet bounded down the stairs again at her cacophonous volume. He wondered why the people on the other side of the landing doors didn’t hear it and complain.

 

He was curious what his time was, but he worked better not knowing. He decided not to think about it until he could at least climb at a steady pace.

 

______________________________________________________

 

For Tseng’s birthday, Shuriken had once again surprised him in the stairway. It was just about the only place she could ever find him, because her business never took her to the actual building anymore, and when Tseng _wasn’t_ in the stairwell he was in an office somewhere, or with his charge. She gave him yet another obnoxious card, and claimed it was a tradition. He rolled his eyes--and silently vowed to get her back.

 

He’d looked up her birthday. He also memorized the schedule she would have on her birthday. He was going to be busy, so he resolved to leave her gift inside her locker at the Academy when he got a break. He’d sneak in and plant it, then get out without anyone seeing him.

 

It was for training, he told himself.

 

He had no idea what to get a thirteen-year-old girl, but he hoped that a hairband would be appreciated. She never liked to pull her hair back, but it also got in her face, he’d noticed. She could use it when she trained. He also left her an obnoxious card with screaming cartoon frogs in it. He hoped that it wasn’t too obnoxious, because it hurt his ears to listen.

 

He left it while he knew Shuriken would be in a lesson in the early evening. About an hour later, while he was delivering paperwork to various departments, his phone vibrated. It wouldn’t have been from Veld, since he had no further orders for the day, but it could have been from any of his old classmates, or that one senior Turk who thought it funny to tease him occasionally. He figured it was Shuriken.

 

**From: Shuriken**

**OH MY GOSH you remembered my birthday! nobody else did, this is the best gift ever, thank you! <333**

 

Tseng blinked at the heart with too many 3’s in it, and replied with a simple “You’re welcome. Any time, Shuriken”. He was met with about fifty emotion icons that he couldn’t understand in response. She asked how he had planted it into her locker and he just smirked.

 

**From: Jet**

**I hear you planted a gift in Shuriken’s locker.**

 

**To: Jet**

**You still talk to her?**

 

**From: Jet**

**Hey, gotta keep tabs on everyone! Anyway, I won’t lose to you.**

 

Tseng blinked at the ambiguous reply, again, then frowned in disbelief. He hadn’t meant to make it a contest, but apparently he couldn’t do _anything_ without Jet challenging him to do it better. He supposed that was a good thing, in a way.

 

Goran, the quirky senior Turk with an equal penchant for knives and jokes, sent him a pun later. It must have been a slow day in the office for there to be so much chatter, he thought with no small amount of exasperation. He looked forward to a quiet day with his charge the next day.

 

______________________________________________________

 

A week later, Katana was promoted to the Turks, and fully initiated. Tseng learned this when he saw his former classmate in the training room down in Headquarters. He stared in surprise as Katana smirked back at him.

 

Katana decided to keep his code name, but he explicitly stated he’d tell his real name to anyone that he trusted. Tseng had a suspicion that Katana already trusted him, but he just wanted to seem mysterious for as long as possible.

 

The biggest surprise was when Shuriken was promoted.

 

She was thirteen and two months old when she’d been promoted, even younger than Tseng had been. She was the youngest member to ever be initiated in the entire history of the Turks, and Tseng didn’t think they’d take anyone any younger that that ever. She’d grown up with Shinra however, so he attributed her success to that. She’d worked hard, and she’d been rewarded for her efforts and accomplishments. Immediately after the deed was done, Tseng received a message from her.

 

**From: Shuriken**

**I’m coming down to headquarters in a bit. You can call me Cissnei from now on :)**

 

**To: Cissnei**

**I’m not down there presently, but I can congratulate you in person later. Congratulations!**

 

Tseng felt that the message didn’t quite convey his shock and acclamation. He changed her name in his phone immediately.

 

Having two new members meant that Tseng had more teammates of his level. The older Turks were on a completely different level than him, so they usually kept to themselves or they were paired with each other. Jet and Dakota were usually paired together (Dakota was the only one Jet could work with), and that had left him without a partner until Katana and Cissnei had been initiated. He dearly hoped for a mission alongside one of the senior Turks, though.

 

There were five senior-level Turks, not including the commander. Three of them looked to be around Veld’s age, remnants of the first generation of Turks. The other two looked to be in their mid to late twenties, but had no shortage of skill compared to the others. So it seemed that there were three different generations of Turks in one place. Tseng was curious what he could learn from this environment.

 

He was curious what had happened to the rest of the Turks, however. There had to have been more; the company could never get the amount of work done that they needed with only six Turks. It was never explicitly stated, and Tseng surmised that it was something the seniors didn't like to discuss, especially with a rookie. All that Tseng knew for sure was that if a member disobeyed severely enough, they could be terminated for being a threat to company security. And if that wasn't the case, there was always the danger of falling in combat.

 

There was also the Valentine case, where the man had gone missing from an assignment in Nibelheim almost twelve years before. Speculation had it that he’d either run off and they just couldn’t find him, or something up in that accursed area had wiped him off the face of the Planet.

 

Tseng wondered if there was a way to “retire” from the Turks. If they were to run off they would be deemed a security risk, but what if they simply got too old for the job, or they were injured too badly to keep working, and they retired? Shinra would have to keep an eye on them of course, but Tseng didn’t see any reason why this couldn’t be an option.

 

Perhaps they never solidified a retirement plan for the Turks because none of them had ever lived that long.

 

Tseng didn't plan on dying in battle, but nevertheless he decided not to think about retirement until he was old enough to consider it. It was also a long way off from his near seventeen years of age, and he had other things to worry about.

 

______________________________________________________

 

One week, Tseng was delivering paperwork to various offices inside the Shinra building, essentially being a delivery boy. The next, he was being sent to other cities, on actual, dare he say “bona fide” missions.

 

Veld called him into his office one day and absently handed him a mission portfolio as he always did, and when Tseng opened it and saw that he was being sent to Junon, then proceeded to stare at Veld with disbelief, he swore he saw a glint of amusement in his commander’s eyes. It was a simple mission, but it was genuine--not just some busy work that someone’s secretary could have completed. He was to fly to Junon and receive a confidential report from a former Turk member who was being used as a spy, then bring it to Veld to be processed.

 

Well. His idea about retirement had been at least a little correct, it seemed.

 

What’s more, this was Tseng’s first mission with a senior Turk. Goran offered to fly him there, since Tseng hadn’t had any practical experience flying a helicopter anyway. As much as Tseng was exasperated by Goran’s jokes, he was grateful for the opportunity to speak to him privately.

 

“This guy is a real piece of work,” Goran explained at the made their way around the mountain range separating Midgar from Junon. “Do you know anything about your target?”

 

Tseng didn’t like using the word “target” in that context, even if the former Turk _was_ the objective of his mission. “No, I only know I’m to receive a report from him.”

 

Goran let out a wistful chuckle. “Well, this guy’s been retired for about twelve years, ever since our last commander died. He didn’t wanna take over for his old pal, so he retired and became a stationary worker for Shinra. He spies, and he does consultations, and other things. He’s also not a very happy guy.”

 

Tseng nodded in acknowledgement. It was good to know that Shinra looked after its employees, and didn’t literally run them into the ground. The rest of the trip was spent listening to Goran’s odd tales and jokes and trying to sound interested, and trying to determine when the correct moment to laugh was. He was getting better at it, though.

 

They arrived in Junon a few hours later after a leisurely flight, and Goran announced that he wasn’t going anywhere near the target’s shop because it would be “too damn awkward”, and that he would stay and watch the chopper. Tseng agreed, for once not because he would rather be without the senior’s company, but because he felt the need to do this mission on his own. It was simple, after all. Even a rookie could do it.

 

Tseng made his way down the beach to the village. Junon was a port town that grew ever bigger as time went on. There were the village huts, and then there were the huge warehouses and silos used for storing goods and shipping them out to every part of the three continents. There were small tourist attractions, though not as many as Costa del Sol; the small, rocky beach wasn’t as suited to tourism as the wide, sandy coastline that the western continent offered. The final industry that Junon offered was fishing, and one of the shops that sold equipment was Tseng’s destination. He made his way through the town with a determined pace, ignoring the few long stares he got because of his uniform, then pushed open the door to the shop.

 

“You’re late,” said the man behind the counter. He looked to be on the older side, maybe around his late forties or early fifties. He was weathered, with graying, salt-and-pepper hair and leathery skin, but his frame was still built like a tank. Tseng had no doubt that even after being retired for twelve years as Goran had said, this former Turk could still defend himself and Shinra’s secrets.

 

Tseng blinked at the man’s comment. He hadn’t known there was a time limit. Even then, he and Goran had left right away after Tseng received the mission. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to respond, but he did anyway. “I came immediately after receiving the mission, sir.”

 

“None of that, I don’t work for Shinra anymore.” The man finally took a good look at the young man in front of him and frowned. “They let ‘em in a lot younger now. Got no idea what you’ve stepped into, you don’t.” He sifted through some papers behind the counter, presumably looking for the report to give to Tseng.

 

Tseng shifted uncomfortably. This man was the patronizing type, it seemed. He supposed a retired, jaded Turk would be, considering what he had probably experienced. He didn’t like that the man assumed Tseng didn’t know what he was doing, however. He kept his feelings to himself and let the man speak.

 

“Half of the new recruits die within the first year. The next forty percent are killed in battle. A few of them either defect or screw up real badly and get shot for it. The really lucky ones like me get to live in luxury while Shinra watches their every move. How long have you been initiated, kid?”

 

Tseng blinked, put off by the sudden question. “Three years, sir.”

 

“Well at least you’ve survived this long,” he said with no shortage of sarcasm. “Just keep your nose clean, and don’t go looking for difficult missions. If you’re lucky, the president won’t start a damn war and have you sent over to die because some natives don’t wanna change their lifestyle.”

 

Tseng didn’t have anything to say to that. He was grateful for the opportunity to speak with a former high-ranking member of the Turks, but he didn’t feel comfortable with the man’s vast amount of pessimism. He didn’t have to justify himself to this man, and he didn’t plan on dying any time soon.

 

He was suddenly glad that Jet hadn’t received this mission, because she’d probably get into trouble for making a fuss and arguing publicly with the man.

 

The former Turk handed his report over and waved him away. “Go and tell the commander that things are find here, and that he should take some of his cameras and shove them up his ass because I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got nowhere to go, anyway.”

 

Tseng bowed in response, in spite of not intending to do the second thing in the slightest, and turned and left.

 

 

 

He returned to Veld with the report without incident and was met with praise. It was refreshing to hear it, but he didn’t count on hearing any more. After that, Tseng had more and more “bona fide” missions that tested his skills and kept him busy.

 

It was hard to believe that just a little more than three years before, he had been at home, dreaming of seeing the world and helping others. Maybe he could help cultivate relations between Wutai and the rest of the world. He just wanted to do _something._ Now, that seemed like a different life, someone else’s. Shinra was his life now, and he didn’t regret it for a moment. It was difficult, and global tensions were rising, but Tseng felt he had made the right choice by going off and committing himself to a cause. No matter where one was in the world, this was a time of strife and chaos, and the best one could do was work to make it better.

 

His life was now training and bettering himself as a member of Shinra Company’s security force, studying foreign policy and relations, and protecting the son of the president of Shinra Company. He felt that he was finally in a routine that he could live with for his entire career, something that brought him fulfillment. He was finally in a position where he could do some good.

 

And, of course some of that good was towards the boy he cared for. He’d accepted that it was unlikely that Rufus would grow up like most other boys. For one, he was incredibly intelligent, and had a focus unlike any other child Tseng had seen. Two, the lack of parental affection shown towards Rufus had made him withdraw into himself. As he’d thought before however, it wasn’t all detrimental; Rufus was, for the most part, emotionally independent, and his thirst for knowledge put him ahead of anyone his age.

 

He frowned when Rufus asked him about his job, finally. The boy hadn’t ever been given the details of what the Turks did, but he seemed to know an awful lot about it. Tseng wondered where he’d gotten the information. “I can’t give you details, sir, but I’ll answer as best as I can.”

 

Rufus looked up from his workbook, frowning concernedly. “You make sure nobody hurts Father’s company. Do you have to hurt people?”

 

It was just like the boy to think of defending against someone as possibly having to hurt them. Tseng chose his words carefully. “I’ve never had to hurt anyone, sir. If someone were to wish you harm, however, it would be my duty to stop them by any means necessary.”

 

Rufus frowned deeper. “Father doesn’t care about me, he only cares about ‘company secrets’. If someone wants the secrets, you have to hurt them, right?”

 

Tseng frowned. That was in his job description, of course. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. “I am trained to do the least amount of damage, sir. Shinra doesn’t enjoy hurting people.” He chose not to comment on how the boy felt about his father--that was getting too close. It was unfortunate, but the boy would learn the president’s true intentions one day when he was older.

 

Rufus looked back down at his work and messed with his pencil absently, still frowning. “Father says nobody will hurt us. But he won’t talk about how they hurt Mother. He says Shinra is too powerful now, and everyone is scared of us.”

 

He continued messing with his pencil as Tseng stood there, unable to find words. What he said was probably true, and there was no need to comment on it. Rufus suddenly looked up at him again, still troubled. “If Father hates Wutai so much, will he hurt you? You’re from Wutai.”

 

Tseng blinked at the unexpected question, but quickly answered with confidence. “No, sir. I’ve proven my loyalty.”

 

Rufus looked away again. “I won’t let him hurt you. I’ll protect you from everybody.”

 

Tseng was taken aback by the comment. He was confused as to why the boy felt he needed to protect his bodyguard. Tseng hoped it was only his desire to keep from losing anyone else, and not because Tseng had failed somehow in his eyes. “I can assure you that I don’t need protecting, sir.” He hesitated before adding, “But I’m grateful for the sentiment, sir.”

 

Rufus looked up at him, practically beaming compared to his usual countenance. Tseng’s chest clenched every time Rufus showed happiness. The boy didn’t have enough of it.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Another part of getting actually missions was the possibility of being sent out with a partner. Katana smirked when he stopped Tseng on the way to report to the commander and handed him a file. “It’s you’re lucky day, rookie. You’re stuck with me.”

 

Tseng felt a slight rush of excitement, but he didn’t show it for fear that it would go to the older youth’s head. “I’m not the rookie here. Where are we going?” He opened up the file even after asking.

 

“Costa del Sol,” Katana smirked again. “Time to get your party pants on, stiff!”

 

“This isn’t a vacation, Katana.” Tseng read the mission brief quickly, then folded it shut again with a disapproving look at his counterpart.

 

Katana deadpanned. “I can already tell you’re going to be _no_ fun. Ever. You’re doomed to a life of… un-fun.”

 

“That isn’t a word. Get ready to go.”

 

“Alright, stick-in-the-mud, the _commander_ is more fun than you are.”

 

That thought actually resonated with Tseng. It didn’t make him want to change his behavior, though. He went to prepare for the simple recon mission.

 

 

 

Though he was becoming notorious for his serious manner and lack of expression, Tseng did get along with the other new recruits exceedingly well. When it came time for it, all of his comrades took their jobs seriously and got them done without incident. He was proud to be associated with them. He may have even called them friends. He quickly got into the routine of partnering up with Katana for dual missions, since that’s how Jet liked it, and Jet always got what she wanted.

 

He surprised himself with feeling disappointed when Katana declined to go on a mission with him once. He was forced to go with the only senior Turk who wasn’t busy, and she didn’t enjoy being stuck with “noobs”. It was an unpleasant mission to say the least, and the humid weather of Gongaga didn’t help. Tseng was almost glad for the hot uniform they wore to fend off the mosquitos.

 

When he returned, he found Katana training. He felt he was owed an explanation, and apparently Katana felt the same way because he stopped what he was doing when he saw Tseng enter the room. “Hey,” he began. “I figure you’re a little miffed I didn’t go with you.”

 

Tseng was miffed, but he’d get over it. He shook his head. “I was concerned. You never turn down a mission.”

 

Katana held up a finger. “Now, it wasn’t technically turning it down! It was your mission, and you needed a partner, and, well. I wasn’t the partner for the job, this time. Veld’s orders.”

 

Tseng frowned, and Katana sighed. “Normally, I would have gone with you. I don’t care what other people think of me. But the commander says it’s too early for me to go home after the shitstorm I caused. Some things happened, I got recruited to the Turks because of it, and I apparently made life harder for a lot of the villagers. They wouldn’t cooperate with me if I showed up there.” He frowned, looking annoyed. “If you ask me, they should be thanking me. I was the only one who stood up to…” He cut himself off, then looked up at Tseng’s reaction.

 

Tseng nodded, realizing Katana’s situation. He could only imagine what he’d done to cause so much trouble, though. “I see. I understand. Will you ever be able to go back?”

 

Katana sighed again. “Maybe in a few years, we don’t know. Maybe they’ll forget I exist. They seemed pretty ready to once they realized what I did.” He glanced back and Tseng and smirked. “You wanna know, don’t you?”

 

Tseng gave him an annoyed look. “Not when you put it like that. You can keep your mysterious past a secret.” He then turned and went to the training room.

 

Katana called after him, “Come on, you’re not even a little curious?”

 

Tseng smirked where he wouldn’t see. It was worth not knowing certain things if it meant Katana had his ego challenged once in a while.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Father had started having women over. Rufus could never remember their names. It used to be really quiet at dinner and he and his father wouldn’t speak, but now Father would ignore him and talk to the lady. That was okay he supposed.

 

As long as she didn’t try to act like a mother, it was fine. He wasn’t interested in a mother if Father liked her. He wasn’t the same anymore. But father rarely had the same lady so they never talked to him and it was okay.

 

This one lady, Annette, she was nice though. She actually tried talking to him, and she got him a new action figure for his birthday. She’d actually remembered his birthday. Father said she was his secretary, so she remembered all the dates. She was nice. But she wasn’t Mother.

 

He didn’t want a mother if it was going to make him weak again.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Three years passed quickly. The Turks were kept busy with all the political and economic upheaval and hardly had time for a break, and Rufus grew quickly in the solitary environment he made for himself. That was to say he quickly grew at his own pace and with little supervision regarding which direction in which he grew. Both Tseng and the president soon realized if the boy wanted to know something, he would find the answer whether or not he was supposed to know, and there would be no way to tell.

 

There was that, and then there was the declaration of the Wutai War.

 

Everyone had seen it coming for years, but Tseng still felt his stomach drop when he heard the news in one of the executive hallways. The president was making a formal announcement to be broadcast to the whole world, and especially Wutai. Negotiations were over. Shinra would have what it wanted.

 

Tseng’s home was going to be decimated.

 

He pushed the thought away, though it wouldn’t leave the foreground of his mind for quite some time. There wasn’t anything he could do except follow his orders and hope this war ended quickly. He remembered the words that the retired Turk in the fishing shop and Junon had told him, that he’d better hope Shinra didn’t start a war and throw them all onto the battlefield. The Turks were covert ops, but that was part of war. They’d be sent to fight as well. Tseng would be sent to kill his own people.

 

“Father started a war.”

 

Tseng shook himself out of his thoughts. There was no point in dwelling on it. He then realized that Rufus knew the news before it had even broadcast. He frowned. “How did you know, sir?”

 

Rufus frowned back at him. “It’s not a secret, everyone’s talking about it. Father is making an announcement today.”

 

Well, there wasn’t any point in hiding it. “That’s correct, sir.”

 

“Why?” Rufus asked, almost demanding. “People are gonna die now.”

 

Tseng frowned slightly. Rufus had a tendency to disregard the reasoning behind destructive actions in favor of his own arguments. Nothing was worth fighting and killing for. It was naive of him, but Tseng almost felt the same way. “The president is doing what is necessary to protect his company’s interests and those of his investors, sir.”

 

Rufus quickly grew upset. “He could just talk to them! Now people will die when they don’t need to!” He huffed angrily, then looked up at Tseng with determination. “I want to see him. I want to talk to him.”

 

Tseng blinked. Was the boy going to try to convince his father otherwise? Tseng didn’t comment on how futile the action was because Rufus wouldn’t listen to him anyway. “The president is very busy with preparations, sir--”

 

“I’m sure he can spare a few moments for his _son,_ ” Rufus spat. He turned and headed for the elevator that led to the top floor. Tseng followed close behind, feeling very uncomfortable about what he suspected was about to happen.

 

 

 

Rufus stepped out of the elevator on the 69th floor and didn’t waste any time heading up the stairs to his father’s office. Tseng didn’t have any trouble keeping up, but he was surprised Rufus’ short legs could carry him that quickly. The boy’s white coat billowed behind him slightly as the air rushed around him. He’d taken to wearing white lately, explaining to Tseng that it required a certain grace and dexterity to avoid getting it dirty, and as such it made him look impressive. And the boy did enjoy looking impressive.

 

Rufus stepped over the threshold at the top of the stairs and viewed the room full of executives and their secretaries. There was Heidegger and his massive form, Palmer and his unpleasant smell, Scarlet and her overbearing nature, and the newly-appointed Urban Development executive whom Tseng hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting before. His name was Reeve, and from both his countenance and the way he held himself in front of the others Tseng could already tell he would be different. He made a note in his head to greet the man formally later. Rufus gestured him forward and Tseng stepped into the room, waiting to announce Rufus’ presence.

 

The president noticed, but didn’t address them until he was finished with his thought on Scarlet’s new weapons idea. “What is it, Turk? I’m clearly busy.”

 

“Your son requested to speak with you immediately, sir.” Tseng had eventually gotten over his nervousness resulting from being in front of the president. Thankfully. He could focus on merely doing his job, and not worry about if his actions would get him fired. Or killed.

 

Rufus didn’t give anyone else a chance to speak before stepping forward and cutting in. “It will only be a moment. I wished to speak with you alone, sir.” In front of others, Rufus made sure to speak clearly and concisely, and rarely used contractions. Tseng was pleased to know that Rufus only ever let his guard down when the two of them were alone.

 

The president gave a gruff response. “I don’t have time for that, just say it here. What do you want?”

 

Rufus clearly wasn’t expecting that, and he blanched a little. Tseng felt for the boy as he quickly gathered his thoughts. “I… I think starting this war with Wutai is foolish. I hope to change your mind before you give the address.”

 

The president actually laughed. “Of course you would think that, being only a boy. I have people that advise me on these matters, and they have advised that I put a stop to that infernal country’s foolishness.”

 

Rufus wouldn’t give up, not even in front of the other executives, who by this time were practically snickering at the boy’s naivete (though not Reeve, Tseng noted). “If you just talk to them, I’m sure we can think of something--”

 

“We’ve been talking for years, boy! It’s time to put down those violent dogs and put Wutai in its place. I don’t need a ten-year-old boy, who has no experience mind you, telling me how to run my company, Now, go before I have the Turk drag you out. You, Turk, don’t let him up here without my approval first in the future.”

 

“Yes sir,” Tseng said without hesitation. He didn’t like the order, but he didn’t dare question an order directly from the president himself.

 

Rufus visibly huffed, but turned and left without another word. They could clearly hear chuckles coming from above as they headed back to the elevator.

 

Rufus didn’t speak until they had reached the public elevator on the 59th floor. They got inside, and Tseng pressed the button for the floor with the building’s library, since that’s where he had been about to escort the boy before. He looked down at the boy, who had arms his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face.

 

“They laughed at me. They won’t take me seriously,” Rufus said with distaste.

 

Tseng was quiet. That was completely true, unfortunately.

 

Rufus continued, venting. “Now Father’s going to start a war, and lots of people will die. I bet he didn’t even try to talk to them. None of his stupid advisers would dare think of a peaceful solution, either.”

 

Tseng felt compelled to give at least a little counsel on this matter. “Perhaps you should let the executives worry about this matter, sir. It is their job, and the president trusts them.”

 

Rufus gave him a disapproving glare. “That’s the stupidest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth, Tseng.”

 

Tseng felt a pang of offense at that. Rufus was upset, but he’d never insulted him before. Apparently he didn’t care, either, because he went on without another word. “Father won’t take me seriously because I have no experience. Then I’ll just have to get some experience. Then he’ll listen to me. Maybe by then he won’t have destroyed an entire country for a stupid reason.”

 

Tseng frowned. He shouldn’t have taken it personally, since his feelings were irrelevant to the job, but coming from Rufus it hurt. The boy had formed very strong opinions, and now he didn’t care whom he had to fight to have his views heard.

 

Tseng chalked it up to the boy’s close proximity to the age of thirteen. Maybe he was ahead of his age in more than just intelligence, and his “angry teenager” phase was starting. Tseng dreaded the years to come once he realized this. Rufus was going to be a fearsomely intelligent, angry teenager.

 

______________________________________________________

 

Rufus had given his father the benefit of the doubt until that moment. Now, he was sure the president would never take him seriously, not even if he measured up to the impossible expectations the man had for him.

 

Rufus decided then that he would not only exceed expectations, but he would surpass his father and his advisers in intelligence and experience. Perhaps then, if not out of acclamation then only because it would be foolish not to do so, the president would give him a position within the company. Rufus would make sure Shinra Company remained the most powerful force on the Planet, and through that he would bring peace to all regions.

 

He had already cracked into his father’s financial accounts, and could access them at any time no matter how many times the security protocols were changed. The next step was gaining control of the entire company’s security. That would prove challenging to learn how to do without any of the Turks finding out.

 

He would have to learn to lie, even to the man who knew him best. He supposed if he could do that, he could manage anything.

 

______________________________________________________

 

DELETED SCENE 1:

Tseng sat with his charge and watched as the six-year-old ate his meal, and blinked. "You're eating your vegetables, sir."

 

Rufus tried to act like it was no big deal, but Tseng could easily tell he was pleased that Tseng noticed. "I wanna be strong like you."

 

Tseng felt his heart melt a little. "Well, eating good food will certainly help you achieve that."

 

Rufus looked up and beamed at him, and Tseng couldn't help but smile back.

 

______________________________________________________

 

 

DELETED SCENE 2:

Tseng struggled to control his breathing so that he would last until he got to the top. He had been steady for months now, but the pressure of the contest had caused him to move a little faster than usual in the beginning. He'd slowed down and calmed himself eventually, but he feared it would cost him valuable time. He supposed it wasn't a big deal, and that Jet would quit bugging him if she beat him.

 

He hadn't timed himself for two years. Just getting to a steady pace had taken many months of training, and even then he knew he wasn't anywhere near the record time. He put it out of his mind until Jet began pestering him incessantly, and he agreed to have her time him one day.

 

He turned off his brain and didn't pay attention to anything but making it up the stairs, and before he knew it he saw Jet in front of him on the final landing. He jumped up the last flight and landed at the top, then doubled over to catch his breath. His legs were shaking, which probably meant he'd overdone it. Hopefully it made up for his mistake at the beginning.

 

"I don't fucking believe it," Jet said, holding her phone with the timer on it.

 

Tseng rested his hands on his thighs and looked up, panting. "What is it?"

 

Jet looked at him with--was that outrage? "Six minutes!"

 

Tseng panted some more, then narrowed his eyes. "What?" There was no way he was that fast. That was practically the fastest one could physically move up that many stairs. He'd done the math.

 

"Six minutes. You have the new record, not even the seniors are that fast! I don't fucking believe it!" Jet turned and threw her arms up in the air as Cissnei hid a smile behind her hand.

 

Tseng frowned in disbelief. "Huh," he breathed. He was the fastest Turk. Cool.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I’ve noticed this is becoming more of a general Shinra-centric fic than just a Rufus one… I hope that doesn’t bother anyone. There will be a hell of a lot of Rufus once he’s old enough to cause trouble, though.
> 
> Rufus is officially a little shit! I’m so proud of him :) I have so many plans for him, this is gonna be great.


	8. Wartime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this one, Tseng finally gets Serious Missions and Rufus probably writes in his diary about how much he hates his dad. Yep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got really, really long, (IT’S STILL REALLY LONG, ENJOY!!) so I ended up cutting it off early, splitting it into two chapters.

Shinra had declared war with Wutai with the intention of wiping them out quickly and thoroughly with its massive military advantage, but they didn’t count on Wutai’s covert battle strategies. It was almost impossible to meet Wutai opposition in open battle; they were more concerned with fending off attacks on their camps while they slept.

 

Needless to say, Shinra did not have the easy time they thought they would dealing with their opponent. It was quickly made apparent that Wutai would not just roll over and die. They were a nation of fighters, and Shinra would feel their wrath.

 

In return, Shinra fought with revenge in mind. It was Wutai’s fault they were fighting and dying, all because they wouldn’t surrender their outdated and barbaric lifestyle. Young and passionate men and women on both sides perished in ferocious skirmishes, and that only fueled the hate and kept the war going.

 

And naturally, during wartime, the government in power could institute a draft to enlist any able-bodied fighter to fight for their country. Most of these people had never held a weapon in their life, and thus became cannon fodder if they didn’t adapt. If not out of duty to their country, but out of fear for their lives, families began enrolling their children in the Shinra Military Academy even more than before, so that they would be prepared to fight if the time ever came.

 

And so, the important job of recruiting new Turks fell to Tseng.

 

The Academy started to take children of any age, and it even took adults who hadn’t been drafted yet and put them in a special adult program. The country had quickly transformed its economy and industry to support the war effort, and the citizens of Midgar and the developed world rallied to Shinra’s cause. This meant more jobs in security opened up, and President Shinra felt it necessary to bolster forces in both the department of Public Safety and in Administrative Research.

 

Why Veld picked  _ him _ to accompany him to recruit, Tseng couldn’t guess. He didn't have enough confidence in his ability to judge another's performance, let alone read them and judge their personality or motives. He asked Veld why he didn't choose one of the senior Turks for this job, and Veld merely waved him off, telling him to enjoy having an important job to do. Tseng nodded, but didn't feel any better since one of the seniors probably wouldn't have needed the commander to accompany them. He was just wasting Veld’s time with his inexperience.

 

Nevertheless, they headed to Shinra Military Academy bright and early in the morning, looking to recruit at least one new Turk. The academy was having their graduation ceremony later, and Veld wanted to check out the girl who was at the top of her class. She would most likely be recruited.

 

In the meantime, Tseng followed the commander to the special training sessions, where those not yet enrolled or those who were enrolled under extenuating circumstances were preparing to show off their skills. These cadets were either looking to be enrolled under an exception such as above average skill, or to skip the academy entirely and be hired in a branch of Shinra Security because of said skill. Officers from the army and two SOLDIER operatives were also there to recruit lucky young fighters to their departments.

 

Tseng stood silently next to his commander while Veld scouted the candidates. Tseng wasn’t sure what he was looking for; all the high-level candidates looked about the same to him. How was he supposed to determine which one showed the most promise from only a few minutes of observation?

 

Accepting that he would probably have to tell Veld what he thought of the cadets himself, Tseng started to narrow down his answer. A young man in the corner looked to be the strongest, sending the large punching bags flying with each solid hit. His moves were practiced, but not in the way that suggested he’d had formal training. He was a focused individual, and that ensured that he would do well in a field such as the Turks. Another girl was small, but very quick and agile, and looked to specialize in incapacitating her enemy before having to fight them. She looked like she’d had formal training, and was looking to join Shinra merely as a career choice. A third cadet was shooting and hitting every target that came up in front of him, dead center, without fail.

 

Veld interrupted his thoughts, leaning over slightly and speaking in a quiet voice meant only for him. “Which of them do you think is most impressive?”

 

Tseng looked up, unsure of himself. “I… I haven’t decided on one, sir. I’ve narrowed it down to three.”

 

Veld raised his eyebrows in approval. “Which three, then?”

 

Tseng let out a breath, steeling himself. “The young man in the corner there is the strongest. He’d do well in frontal attacks and diversions. The blonde girl over with the dummies is quick and silent, and would do well in stealth and assassination. And finally the boy at the shooting range, he hasn’t missed a single shot the whole time I’ve been watching him. As for which one I would pick…” he paused, unsure of how to word it. “Their skills are all valuable in different ways, and we should pick someone we don’t already have covering their specialty. But we already have stealth, martial arts, and shooting specialists.”

 

Veld nodded. “Good observations, all of them. Now, I’m going to tell you who I’m going to pick.”

 

Tseng swallowed, nervous. He felt like this was a test for him, as well, and he felt his palms growing slick. Veld pointed to a corner, and Tseng couldn’t tell right away whom he was pointing at. “You see the black-haired girl with the knives? She was my second choice until I heard your observation. Now, she’s number one.”

 

Tseng frowned. He hadn’t even noticed her. She was unremarkable. “Why is that, sir?”

 

Veld folded his arms, still watching the girl. “One, because of her skills. She hasn’t missed a single target the whole time we’ve been here. And two, because you didn’t even notice her. She’s been walking around the room for twenty minutes, hitting different targets at random.”

 

Tseng blinked. He hadn’t even noticed any of the cadets moving around. They all had their own station, it seemed, though he supposed they could have moved if they wanted. But that wasn’t the most puzzling. “Sir, I thought we were supposed to look for the most impressive cadet,” he said. “They’re all supposed to show us their best, so that we notice them. I would consider her shy and hesitant, not fit for the field.”

 

Veld turned and gave him the biggest smirk that he’d ever seen on the commander. “Maybe. There are unspoken rules that you’ll get used to when recruiting for the Turks, rather than for the army or for SOLDIER.” He looked back to the girl. “We specialize in being discreet, but still having deadly and unfaltering skill. She may be unremarkable to look at, but her throws are smooth and unwavering. She will never hesitate in the field.”

 

Tseng stared at the girl. He watched her throws, and saw how smooth they were, but only attributed that to her calm and safe surroundings. He couldn’t see what Veld did in her. “Yes, sir,” he said, slightly hesitant. He couldn’t hide his confusion, not from the commander.

 

“You’ll get it eventually, rookie,” Veld smirked. “Let’s go talk to her.”

 

Tseng pursed his lips from behind where he followed after Veld. He was hardly a rookie anymore, but the commander felt it necessary to keep him humble. His generation of Turks was still all rookies to the seniors. Maybe that would change today, when they got at least one more member?

 

Veld called to the girl with the knives, and she stopped herself from throwing one before turning around and coming to attention. “Sir!”

 

Veld nodded, and told her to stand at ease, and that they only wished to speak with her. Tseng saw recognition in the girl’s eyes--she knew what their uniforms meant.

 

“What is your name, cadet?” Veld began.

 

“Violet, sir, though I’m not a cadet.”

 

Veld didn’t miss a beat in his questions, and showed no emotion. “Explain.”

 

“I came here yesterday, sir, and was moved in here because of my skillset.”

 

“And what’s your specialty?”

 

“Throwing knives, sir.”

 

“Who taught you?”

 

She hesitated, for a fraction of a second. “My father, sir. He stressed that it’s important for a woman to be able to defend herself.”

 

“Knives are offensive long-range weapons,” Veld went on, not letting the girl recover her nerves. “Did you plan on fighting offensively?”

 

Violet hesitated longer, clearly off guard. Her words were choppy, as if she’d rehearsed other responses, but not something like this. “It’s important to know both long and short-range attacks, sir. I’m also well versed in martial arts, though it’s not my specialty. It’s better to see an attack coming and neutralize it than to fight it head on.”

 

Veld finally gave her a break, and paused. “Good. Where are you from?”

 

“Corel, sir.”

 

“That was recently attacked.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“Do you have family there?”

 

“No sir. Not anymore.” The girl was growing more and more tense under Veld’s onslaught. Veld had forced her to admit her family was gone, and still didn’t give her a break. Tseng felt for her as Veld continued.

 

“Are you nervous?”

 

“Yes sir.” Her voice wavered finally. She was losing it.

 

“Do you hold any animosity towards Shinra?”

 

“Of course not, sir. My family supported the reactors.” Tseng saw her hand trembling, holding onto her knives with a death-grip.

 

Veld paused again. Tseng frowned slightly. Was he letting her stew in her terror? He could be needlessly cruel, sometimes. Was it just a test, to see if the girl could take it? She looked like she might cry if this went on any longer.

 

“Demonstrate your skills for us,” Veld said, without warning.

 

The girl took a breath and let it out, visibly relaxing a little. She turned towards the dummies she’d been using before, and held a knife with practiced ease, and threw it into the dummy’s abdomen with a fluid, unwavering motion. Tseng’s eyes widened. She’d been freaking out only moments before, but her performance hadn’t suffered at all.

 

She threw another into the chest, and a final one straight between the eyes, alternating between hands with equal finesse. She was ambidextrous, Tseng noted. Violet turned back to them, still visibly nervous.

 

Veld nodded in approval. “Perfect. You went for the trunk first, before the killing blow.”

 

Violet nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s better to aim for a bigger target to incapacitate, then go for the kill once you’re sure you’ll hit.”

 

Veld smirked. “But you’re sure you’d hit the head anyway, aren’t you? Your father taught you well.”

 

Violet tensed. “He was a good man, sir.”

 

Veld raised his head a fraction, looking down his nose at her. “You told two lies.”

 

Violet immediately blanched, and Tseng frowned harder. Had she really? The girl was terrified once again, her voice strained. “S-Sir?”

 

Tseng couldn’t help but look between them, and noticed Violet looking between both the Turks standing in front of her, looking for a hint of mercy. Veld had caught her, for sure. But what could she have been lying about, and how did Veld notice? Veld stared at her for a few more seconds, then finally relented. “Though, neither of them were a threat to Shinra.” He held out his hand for a handshake. “Welcome to the Turks.”

 

Violet gasped audibly, and looked down at the hand, hesitated a few seconds, then grabbed it. “S-Sir!”

 

Tseng felt his own chest relax. He hadn’t noticed how tense he was. Veld held out a phone to the girl, who took it with more confusion on her face. “This is how we’ll communicate. You’ll receive instructions on how to proceed in the messages folder. Please follow them as you get them, and you’ll be ready for work tomorrow. Be in my office at 8am sharp.”

 

Violet snapped to attention. “Yes, sir!”

 

“You’re dismissed.” Veld turned to leave, and Tseng followed, looking back at the girl once before heading out.

 

Tseng strode quickly to keep up with the commander. He was almost as tall as the man now, but he still found himself lagging behind somehow. “You don’t think that was harsh, sir?”

 

Veld hummed in amusement. He was clearly enjoying himself. “I had to be sure she was unflappable in combat. She’s flawless, no matter how she’s feeling in the moment. She’ll do well.”

 

Tseng nodded. “Yes, sir.” He never would have thought of all these different things Veld had showed him today. He hated it, but he did still feel like a rookie. He looked down the hall and saw a line of people waiting to get inside the large gymnasium. The echo of hundreds of voices trickled out from the double doors, and raised in volume as they neared the line. “We’re going to watch the ceremony, sir?”

 

Veld merely nodded. “It will be good to see what the academy graduation ceremony is like. I’ve never seen it before, myself.”

 

And that was how they were stuck listening to numerous, too-long speeches by academy administrators and students. The actual graduation ceremony was the shortest, with only about a hundred students walking up to receive their certification. Finally, the girl who was top of her class took her certification and gave a short address before the closing statements. She seemed like a woman of few words, and Tseng was glad for it.

 

It was the most boring hour and a half of Tseng’s life. Though he’d never sat through an executive budget meeting, he assumed that the arguing at least would have more life than this ceremony had.

 

Finally, they were able to meet with the girl alone. Tseng wondered if Veld would do the same thing with this girl, minus the skill demonstration. She’d already been graded on her skills along with the other graduates, of course.

 

Veld didn’t waste any time after ushering her into an empty classroom. “What’s your name, cadet?”

 

“Rosalind, sir.” She stood rigidly at attention, her uniform crisp and clean, and her hair cut in a neat bob without a hair out of place. Tseng respected her; he felt she had the same level of discipline that he’d had growing up.

 

Veld went on. “What’s your specialty?”

 

“Handgun, sir. Ambidextrous.”

 

Veld smirked. He was having fun again. “And what hand do you favor, cadet?”

 

Rosalind actually hesitated. “Right hand, sir.” She hadn't wanted to admit that, it seemed. Though she could use both hands well enough to get the job done, she worked best with her right.

 

Veld nodded. “Honesty is good. What is your most impressive achievement here at the academy?”

 

The girl didn’t bat an eye. “I haven’t missed a stationary target in three years, sir.”

 

“And what about moving targets?”

 

Rosalind blinked. “I missed twice, sir.”

 

Veld raised his eyebrows, though Tseng knew he was already aware of those facts. “Those are impressive statistics, cadet.”

 

“What’s the point of firing if you aren’t going to hit your target, sir?”

 

Veld finally paused, but only for a moment. “Do you want to join the Turks?”

 

“Yes sir.” There was no hesitation.

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s the most prestigious security program that Shinra has to offer, and my skills will be best utilized in that environment, sir.” It sounded practiced, but also genuine. This girl didn't beat around the bush.

 

Veld nodded again. “Step forward, cadet.”

 

Rosalind stepped forward, still at attention, unwilling to make any other move unless she was ordered to do so.

 

Veld stuck out his hand. “Welcome to the Turks.”

 

Rosalind actually showed a fraction of a smile as she took his hand in an iron grip. “Thank you, sir.” 

 

Veld handed her another phone and explained everything, and sent her off to go strip down her dorm room and move into her new living quarters. Veld motioned for Tseng to follow him out.

 

Tseng spoke up again. “She says ‘sir’ more than I do, sir.”

 

Veld chuckled at that. “That’s how they’re taught here at the academy. Though even then, most of the students aren’t  _ that _ diligent in their addressing of an officer.”

 

“We weren’t going to take a look at the others before making our decision, sir?”

 

Veld hummed amusedly,  _ again.  _ “She was leagues ahead of the other cadets. There was no competition.”

 

Tseng couldn’t deny that. 

 

########

 

Tseng’s shoes tapped lightly on the linoleum as he headed down to Veld’s office on Floor 69. He was glad one of the unspoken rules of the Turks was that they could wear their own shoes (since being able to find traction and move efficiently depending on one’s specialty was considered more important than a uniform staff, it seemed), and he’d found a style that was still uniform, yet more discreet. The soles were softer but still durable, and made less noise when he moved.

 

Jet, however, didn’t care about the noise her soles made, it seemed. Tseng heard her tapping her foot around the corner where she leaned up against the wall before he turned to meet her smug gaze. “Hello, Jet.”

 

“Hello, yourself. Take a look at this.” She held up her phone to reveal a timer. It was set to 05:58:02.

 

Tseng blinked. No, not set, that was time it had gotten to before Jet had stopped it at the top of the stairs, and--he looked up with eyebrows raised. “You beat it?”

 

Jet pushed it closer to his face in emphasis. “I fucking beat it, finally! Your seat has been usurped, slowpoke!”

 

Tseng couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle. He hadn’t timed himself since he’d broken the record, and that had been three years ago. Perhaps it had been a fluke? A one-time thing? But Jet had beaten it. If nothing else, she was determined. “The seniors hadn’t beat it before?”

 

Jet shook her head. “Nah, something about how they’re too old for petty contests or some shit. I think they’re just too old and slow.”

 

Tseng snorted. However abrasive Jet was, she always found a way to make him laugh. It was unnerving, but also welcome. “Congratulations on your victory, Jet. I hope your reign is long and peaceful.”

 

Jet scoffed. “I’m not stopping there, man. Who knows when a rookie is gonna come vying for my seat? I’m gonna beat  _ my _ record. Over and over. Until it’s physically impossible to move any faster.”

 

Tseng sighed. “You have fun doing that.” He waved goodbye to her and went on his way, shoes tapping quietly on the floor. He hadn’t been competing to be any faster, per se, but he was always working to improve all of his physical capabilities. He supposed someone who specialized in the Elecro-Mag-Rod would have to be fast. Those didn’t do very much damage, and Tseng wondered what exactly Jet hoped to accomplish in the field. Maybe she simply didn’t want to kill anything? That seemed likely. Her personality was abrasive and sometimes malicious, but when it came down to doing actual damage, perhaps she had some mercy after all.

 

Tseng tried not to think about how he might be called to use his talents for lethal outcomes, soon. He focused on getting to Veld’s office and dropping off his mission report,instead.

 

########

 

Luckily, his next mission didn’t seem to call for lethal force. The target did  _ not _ give him any comfort, however.

 

Veld slid a folder across his impeccably-clean desk towards Tseng. “A Science Department research sample escaped the building last year. Public Safety has found its general location, and you’re to retrieve it and bring it here.”

 

At first, Tseng had merely nodded. It wasn’t routine, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Then he looked at the subject’s photograph and frowned. He looked up with confusion. “It’s a girl, sir?”

 

If Veld was disturbed in any way, he didn’t show it. He never did. “The girl’s mother was also a subject, but we found her at the Sector 7 train station in the slums. You’re to locate the girl and bring her back here. All the investigation reports are in that file, and you can use them to locate her.”

 

Tseng blinked. Veld had at least switched the pronouns to refer to the girl as a person, rather than a thing, but he didn’t seem unsettled that Shinra had  _ human test subjects. _ That was a thing!? That was legal!?

 

Tseng’s mind reeled, and Veld took pity on him for once and explained further. “The girl is a very important asset to the company, and she is not to be harmed in any way. Is that clear?”

 

Tseng hesitated. He felt like he was suddenly privy to a huge secret, and Veld was trusting him. He already knew Shinra had no qualms about breaking their own laws, but it had all been for the good of the populace. It had all been justified. But could Shinra justify having human test subjects? And if that was allowed, what other heinous crimes were committed in the Science Department? Had Veld known about all this before giving him this mission? Did he already know about all the questionable things Shinra got up to?

 

But... Tseng was a Turk, and Turks did their jobs. It wasn’t his place to question. He didn’t have to hurt the girl, just bring her back. That was fine with him. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

 

Veld nodded in return. “You’re dismissed.”

 

Tseng bowed slightly, then turned and left. He was disappointed that the investigation was mostly finished, and all he really had to do was narrow it down a little. He wouldn’t be able to process the mission while doing menial investigative tasks. He turned off the part of his brain that felt things for this mission.

 

#########

 

It wasn’t difficult to find the girl. The train conductor was very cooperative, saying that a woman had taken the girl away when he’d found them the year before. He only wanted the girl safe, and the woman had seemed genuine. Tseng nodded, and thanked him.

 

Other people down in the slums, however, didn’t take kindly to Shinra’s presence. They were used to Security and were more cooperative with the infantrymen than with others because they were charged with keeping the peace, but higher officials were not welcome in the slightest. It was difficult to get information out of people, but Tseng knew the protocols. It was pointless to try to get these people to trust him, and he’d had to resort to threats. Once he threatened their livelihood with the wrath of Shinra, they usually cooperated. He hated it, but it was the only way to get the information he needed.

 

The woman’s name was Elmyra Gainsborough, and she was popular for having possibly the nicest living quarters in the slums. It had been in her family since before the Plate was built, and was well maintained even in the squalor of the slums. Her family wasn’t quite poor, and the woman’s husband had fought in the war and sent home funds to supplement Elmyra’s income. When Tseng arrived at the cottage, he was amazed to see a freshwater stream that wasn’t contaminated by Shinra’s reactors.

 

He’d read over the file at Headquarters and promptly stored it in his locker before heading out, but he’d memorized the important details. The girl’s name was Aerith, and she was something called an Ancient, or a direct descendant of an ancient race of people that supposedly had unique qualities. Supposedly they knew where the fabled Promised Land was, and could lead the world into prosperity. The file hadn’t said what the Science department wanted with the girl, and he didn’t intend to ask. He hoped they were merely attempting to understand the girl, and not doing anything untoward. He stepped up to the door, knocked three times then brought his hands behind him in a professional manner.

 

A few moments later, the window curtain pulled back to reveal a young woman whom Tseng assumed to be Elmyra. She lived alone, except for the girl she’d brought home with her the year before. She let the curtain drop, then opened the door hesitantly. “May I help you?”

 

Tseng nodded, tersely. This was going to test his abilities more than anything else he’d ever done. “My name is Tseng, of the Turks. Are you Elmyra Gainsborough?”

 

The woman tensed slightly. “Yes. What do you want?”

 

Tseng only guessed that anyone who didn’t know her name probably wasn’t welcome down in the slums. He persisted, ignoring his discomfort. “I only have a few questions for you, Ms. Gainsborough. Shall we go inside?”

 

The woman was on the defensive, however, she didn’t seem to find a reason to defy a Shinra authority. She stepped back and motioned for him to enter. Tseng nodded in thanks, and stepped inside.

 

Elmyra closed the door and stepped around to speak with him, her hands wringing in front of her. “What questions do you have? I don’t have any ties to Shinra now that my husband has passed. And you don’t look like a regular infantryman.”

 

She may not have known exactly who he was, but she knew he was higher than the common military officer. “No, ma’am. I’m here about the girl you took home from the train station last year. Is she here?”

 

Elmyra immediately tensed. She knew there was no way she could fight against a trained Shinra operative and win, but she wasn’t going to give up that easily. “She’s upstairs. She lost her mother, and I took her in. Please leave her alone.”

 

Tseng forced himself not to react to the woman’s plea. “I’m not here to harm her. I was sent to retrieve her and bring her back to Shinra. She’ll be well taken care of.” He didn’t mention the part where she was an escaped research sample, but the fact clawed at the back of his mind.

 

Elmyra didn’t let down her guard for an instant. “And if I refuse? Her mother escaped from there. I don’t know what they did to her, but she didn’t survive, and she left her little girl behind. I wouldn’t trust Shinra with her care, not in a million years.”

 

Tseng let out a breath and relaxed a little. Perhaps a different approach would be better. “I would prefer to not take her by force. Perhaps I could talk to her?”

 

Elmyra opened her mouth to argue, but a small voice spoke from the top of the stairs. “Mom? Who’s here?”

 

Elmyra immediately looked to the stairs, then back to Tseng with a guarded expression. Tseng merely leaned over to get a better view of the girl, not moving from his spot. Hopefully that would convince the woman that he wasn’t hostile.

 

Elmyra relented, probably so as not to upset the girl. “This man is from Shinra, Aerith. He has asked to talk to you.”

 

The girl frowned, her soft features ruined by her expression. Her view of Shinra was just the same as her mother’s. “Why?” She stepped down the stairs, bravely facing her adversary.

 

Tseng pushed the thought of himself being an  _ adversary _ away. “My name is Tseng, of the Turks. We’ve been searching for you for a long time, Aerith. I’m here to take you back to Shinra.”

 

Aerith stood firm next to Elmyra, and frowned harder. “No!” she yelled. “Never!”

 

Tseng blinked, taken aback. The little girl didn’t seem intimidated by him in the least. He fought to recover himself. “Aerith, you’re a very special child. You are of special blood. Your real mother was an ‘Ancient’.”

 

Tseng noticed Elmyra’s eyes widen at that. She hadn’t known, of course. Neither had Tseng, until that day. He went on, trying to convince the little girl. “The Ancients will lead us all to a land of supreme happiness.” At least, that’s what the legend said. “You’ll be able to bring happiness to all those in the slums. That is why Shinra would like your cooperation.”

 

Aerith stepped towards Tseng, completely unafraid, and looked between him and Elmyra. “He’s wrong! I’m not an Ancient! I’m not!”

 

So, that was her argument. He pulled another fact from the file he’d memorized and stepped towards her, tentatively. “But Aerith, surely you hear voices sometimes, when you’re all alone?”

 

Aerith’s cheeks blew up in fury, and she shouted back at him, “No, I don’t!” And without another word, she rushed past him and out the door.

 

Tseng stepped back, caught off guard, and turned to Elmyra. She hadn’t even tried to stop Aerith, so he assumed the woman wasn’t worried about Aerith running off and never returning. He relaxed, as much as he could knowing he’d been put off guard by an eight-year-old girl.

 

Elmyra’s hard stare dared him to go after her. “There’s your answer. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

 

Tseng’s mind raced. He’d lost the battle of convincing them to go quietly, and protocol indicated that he should then use force. But the thought of--of  _ kidnapping _ the young girl made the bile rise in his esophagus. There had to be another way. The girl wouldn’t go willingly, and if he returned to Veld without the girl then he will have failed the mission, right? That wasn’t an option. There had to be... a third option.

 

From what he’d read of the file, Shinra hadn’t looked that hard for the girl in the past year. If they’d wanted her back quickly, they would have sent the Turks in the first place, and more than just a rookie who had never had a mission like this before. Using that information, he deduced that they didn’t urgently need the girl back, and that he had time to win her over peacefully. He would return to Veld and explain the situation, emphasizing that Shinra needed Aerith to cooperate in order to find this Promised Land.

 

His head hurt from thinking up so much bullshit, and excuses to not do his job. Just kidnapping the girl would be easiest, and most efficient. He tasted bile in his mouth, but forced it down as he told himself he was helping the girl. She would not be harmed. He did his best to sound genuine, because that’s what he was riding on to convince Aerith and Elmyra. “I won’t take her against her will. I hope to convince her to help us. I’ll return again later, hoping to change your mind.”

 

Elmyra went and opened the door, standing next to it expectantly. “Good luck with that.”

 

Tseng bowed to her, and went out the door. Elmyra called to Aerith and told her to come back inside, and Tseng turned to see. The girl was standing in the plot of dirt next to the house, doing what he couldn’t guess. He waved to her. Aerith looked at him with disgust, then climbed through the little fence next to the house and ran back inside.

 

Tseng made the long trek back up to the Plate, dreading his conversation with the commander. Would Veld take this as a failure? Had he failed a mission? He felt sick to his stomach, but forced it down. He would take responsibility for his actions, and with any luck his explanation would be satisfactory.

 

########

 

It was a  _ miracle. _ He’d explained everything to Veld, and the commander had been clearly displeased at first, but when Tseng argued that they needed the girl to cooperate he relented.

 

Tseng had expected to be sent to update the president himself, but Veld said he would take care of it. He then told Tseng to get thinking on a way to convince the sample to return, then dismissed him. Tseng walked out without another word, before Veld changed his mind. He set to work on that solution he had no idea how to formulate.

 

Later that day, he received yet another unsolicited text from Goran.

 

**From: Goran**

**i heard u got the ancient mission. glad ur doing it an not me bro ;)**

 

**To: Goran**

**If you knew about this, why didn’t you warn me?**

 

**From: Goran**

**rookie has to learn sometime right? ;)**

 

Tseng tossed his phone onto his couch, not in the mood for Goran’s antics. The rookies had to learn  _ everything _ , apparently. He secretly thanked the senior for never giving him any help whatsoever, simply so he’d be able to say he didn’t have help. He then wondered what else the seniors knew, and didn’t tell the rookies. Tseng was at least in on the Science Department atrocities, now, so he assumed he’d be privy to everything soon enough.

 

#########

 

Rufus Shinra sat in the lobby of his mansion (Yes, it was a mansion, no matter how humble Father liked to think it was) waiting for his bodyguard to arrive for yet another uneventful day spent “studying”. He’d long since abandoned trying to learn anything from his tutor, and he was currently working on an argument he’d use to have Father fire him. Rufus preferred gathering his own knowledge, rather than having it filtered through a condescending, biased source. When he wasn’t at company functions, sitting uselessly in a corner looking pretty, he was researching both his general education topics and those he chose for himself.

 

He huffed to himself. He was eleven years old, and Father still hadn’t considered him in need of a phone. If he’d had one, he could have asked Tseng to come earlier since his schedule was different from usual. He’d submitted the paperwork to the secretary the day before, but it seemed that Tseng hadn’t been notified. How annoying. He would write a program to message Tseng from his personal computer, but… well. He didn’t know how to do that, yet. He was working on it, though.

 

He also could have used one of the house phones, but he didn't know Tseng’s phone number. He would memorize that the moment Tseng came to get him. He felt foolish for not having thought to do it before.

 

Finally, his bodyguard stepped into the room from the servant's entrance. Tseng looked impeccable as ever, not even a hair out of place. Rufus wondered how he maintained such an enigmatic image. He’d known Tseng for seven years now, and the instances where he actually showed humanity were few and far between. Most of the time, he looked and spoke like a robot.

 

Rufus didn't mind though. That only meant Tseng was the best, the most serious about his job. Rufus trusted him with his life. Tseng addressed him in his usual, overly-professional manner. “Are you ready to go, sir?”

 

Obviously, the man didn’t know about his schedule change. Rufus fought the urge to sigh. “... I made it clear to Father that I intend to focus on my studies, and he allowed me to quit the Academy.”

 

Tseng blinked, and frowned slightly. “Are you sure, sir? It is a valuable skill to be able to defend oneself.”

 

Rufus shrugged, then looked up at him. “Well, that’s what I have you for, isn’t it?” He smiled. That was indeed why Tseng was around. Other than to keep him company of course, because he was just about the only company the boy could stand.

 

Tseng’s frown turned downward, looking rather disappointed. “Ah…. Yes, sir.” He was probably thinking about how unfortunate it was, because Rufus was getting rather proficient in martial arts. Rufus didn’t mind, though. He only valued the lessons for training his focus and discipline, and he’d mastered those by now.

 

Rufus waved a hand. “You can take me to the Employee Housing office instead. I’ll speak with the manager there about their practices. Father says my lesson time is now free time I can use to learn about company institutions.”

 

Tseng bowed slightly, as he always did. “Of course, sir.”

 

Rufus left the building with his bodyguard close behind, ready to harass the Housing Office front desk. He did love to harass people who didn’t think they owed him anything, and then reveal that he was the president’s son. That always put a smile on his face.

 

########

 

Sometimes, Tseng would leave Rufus at the Shinra building then go to work. Since the building was always under complete control, he never required a bodyguard inside Shinra Headquarters. Well, he had when he was about five, but he no longer required a  _ babysitter. _ He could roam the building at will, though he never went many places. He spent most of his time either on the research and resource floor of the public section, or pestering different offices in the building for information. It was his duty as the president’s son to learn as much as possible about the company and its institutions, but Rufus especially enjoyed keeping the employees on their toes, and manipulating them to get what he wanted.

 

That, and he used his influence to get rid of people he deemed unfit for the job. He couldn’t actually fire people, but one word to their boss and they were toast. Father didn’t even need to know (he really didn’t, it was the responsibility of the department hiring manager to control the lower employees), so Rufus could create whatever situation he wanted to benefit the company. Father should have been thanking him for clearing out unsatisfactory employees.

 

With this power Rufus realized he could control certain things without actually having any title at all. Simply because he was the president’s son, people owed him respect and were obligated to do what he said. Even if he himself didn’t find any value in his position, other people did, and feared for their jobs because of it. One day Rufus noticed someone had made a mistake (a small mistake, really, it wouldn’t have harmed anything if he hadn’t brought it up) and proceeded to threaten their job, and manipulate them into committing a crime to get him information he wasn’t supposed to have. Before his intervention, they probably wouldn’t have gotten in any trouble for their small archiving error. But now, if they were caught, they’d be charged with giving sealed information to the public (because he was considered a citizen, technically). That, and he’d maneuvered them into a position where they couldn’t even say whom they’d given the information to, or they’d get into even more trouble. And, as a final touch, he’d told them, “Who are they going to believe-- you, or the son of the president?” He’d smirked at them as they realized just what deep pit of shit they’d gotten themselves into.

 

The sheer power he had in that situation pleased him more than anything else could. Because of his intelligence, he could outsmart and manipulate Father’s company right under his nose, and make sure he couldn’t find out. He believed it to be another successful transaction until he heard someone behind the counter--where he couldn’t see because he wasn’t tall enough--mutter the phrase, “Nepotism at its finest”.

 

He frowned. He would have admonished them further, but he didn’t want them to find out he didn’t actually know what that word meant. So he acted as if he hadn’t heard them, and went on his way. When he was sure they couldn’t see him, he took his notebook computer out of his bag and looked up the word, “nepotism”.

 

He frowned further, reading the definition: the practice among those in power or influence of favoring relatives or friends, especially by giving them jobs. He disregarded the last part, since he didn’t have a job. He assumed they were talking about him, and his connection to the president of the company, and then he realized to what they were referring to.

 

He’d thought these interactions were successful because of his superior intelligence, and his ability to manipulate peoples’ fears against them, but then he realized his entire persuasion mechanism relied on the fact that he was the president’s son, and could threaten their jobs. Sure, with his intelligence he could convince them that they’d made a mistake, but without his relation to Father, there was nothing he could do to them at all. They weren’t afraid of him, they were afraid of his father.

 

He felt sick to his stomach with both embarrassment and anger. That was what people thought of him, a stupid eleven-year-old that couldn’t even notice the obvious. He was angry that he didn’t see what he was doing before. He decided not to threaten peoples’ jobs any longer, and find a different way to get what he needed. He wouldn’t use his relation to Father to get anything, ever again.

 

########

 

Since Rufus was mostly independent lately, Tseng spent less and less time watching over him and more time on his actual job. He could argue that guarding Rufus was his primary job, but he was glad to be given other duties that normal Turks did. He didn’t feel like an outcast any longer.

 

He couldn’t help but notice Veld gave him more “special” duties that none of the other Turks had, however--such as his duty of bringing the Ancient girl back to Shinra.

 

Veld said he would stall for time, and Tseng hadn’t even hoped for  _ that, _ and now that he had more time he couldn’t figure out a way to bring the girl in. She still didn’t trust him, and barely even acknowledged his presence when he went to visit. That’s what he was doing--visiting--because he most certainly wasn’t doing his job and taking her in. Every time he went there he wasted more time. He shouldn’t get paid to visit with someone, as if he were off the clock.

 

It felt so  _ wrong _ , though. He couldn’t just kidnap her, but she wouldn’t go willingly. And Tseng had no idea how long Veld would or even  _ could _ stall for him. He was nervous.

 

It had been a month, and he’d taken as many other assignments as he could to avoid going down to the girl’s house. As long as he was busy with other assignments, he could make it look like Shinra simply didn’t have the time or the resources to go get the girl. That way, he could convince the president that he hadn’t had enough interaction with the girl to get her to cooperate willingly. It was risky, and it made Tseng incredibly uncomfortable.

 

He sighed. It had been a month, and Veld wasn’t angry with him at least. Tseng could never tell what went on in the commander’s head; most of the time he was serious and didn’t tolerate deviations from protocol, but he’d let a few things slide that Tseng hadn’t expected. Sometimes he showed a devious side that enjoyed picking on his subordinates, and sometimes setting aside the rules. Tseng couldn’t tell if Veld was being serious about this Ancient issue, or if he was deliberately giving Tseng a break because he also felt terrible about the situation.

 

Well, Tseng  _ liked _ to think the commander wouldn’t approve of kidnapping an eight-year-old girl, and that he was doing everything in his power to put it off until it wasn’t actually kidnapping. But Tseng couldn’t be sure. He was still learning to read such situations.

 

He was happy to be picking up Rufus instead of going down to the slums. Whereas before Tseng had found himself bored by merely escorting the boy around (bored, but still happy to see him of course), he now looked forward to the calm nature of the mission. He could let down his guard, just a little bit.

 

He listed the day’s schedule from memory, the general news (the war was still going on and it was still terrible), and noted that Rufus should bring his coat because the temperature was low for being the end of summer before the boy stopped him.

 

“Do you have to know  _ everything _ by the time you pick me up in the morning? It’s as if you conduct a daily update of all the world’s knowledge in your brain before you make contact with any other life forms.”

 

Tseng blinked. “I merely learn everything there is to know about the issue at hand, sir.”

 

“Even the weather?”

 

“It is relevant to the activities I’ll be escorting you through today, sir.”

 

Rufus frowned. “Point proven.”

 

“You should bring your coat, sir. It’s chilly outside.”

 

Rufus explained that his father had approved a trip to the western continent (because Tseng was never notified about these things until they were already happening) and that he was excited to get out of the city. He said that he’d traveled when he was younger, but he didn’t remember anything from before he was four years old, of course. All he had to do was create a trip itinerary and have his father approve it, and they could go. Tseng silently wondered how an eleven-year-old could be expected to plan a trip by himself, but he didn’t put it past the boy. If he didn’t know how to do something, he would find a way. Tseng had given up asking if Rufus needed help with anything; the boy was too prideful to accept it.

 

They made their way up to the research and resource floor of Shinra HQ and Tseng left Rufus to study while he finished a few reports up on the Turks floor (even though the Turks were shoved off in a corner, he like to call it the Turks Floor for prideful reasons). He’d then escort Rufus to the Weapons Development presentation Scarlet was putting on later, to show off her new prototypes. Tseng pushed all his feelings of dread away, and focused on the fact that he and Rufus would be in the back, as far away from her as possible.

 

He had finished filling in the details of his second mission report when a deafening klaxon went off. He jumped at the loud, grating sound, and jumped to his feet. There wasn’t anyone else in the office that he knew of, so he ran down the hall to Veld’s office, just in case this was a drill. He rounded the corner and yanked the door open without knocking. “Sir!?”

 

Veld was on his phone, probably sending a message. He looked up. “Intruders on multiple floors. Is your charge in the building?”

 

“Yes sir!” Tseng’s stomach plummeted. How in the  _ world _ had intruders gotten in!?

 

“Go down and get him and make sure he’s safe until you receive further orders.”

 

“Sir!” Tseng was out of there and in the stairwell in seconds.

 

########

 

Rufus also jumped when the klaxon sounded. He jerked his head up and looked around, an action that everyone in the entire building was doing, probably. He didn’t know what the alarm meant, but if it had never happened before, and there was no warning, it probably wasn’t good. He looked to the head desk, figuring since they were next to computers they would get a message fastest, and sure enough they were looking down at their screens. But before Rufus could discern any useful information from them security rushed to the exits and began giving the citizens orders to stay at their desks and not panic. Rufus frowned. Security wasn’t telling what was going on, probably because all the people in the room were mere citizens and they didn’t need to know.

 

Was it an unscheduled drill? He figured he could crack into his father’s messages and see, but that would take time he probably didn’t have. If he went up and asked security, maybe they would tell him.

 

For once, he found himself unable to go over and ask, however. Maybe he should stay put and let the soldiers handle it, this time? He closed his laptop and gathered his things in case they had to move, because there was no way he trusted the library staff with his things.

 

He couldn’t hear a thing with the alarm going, and he grew impatient. Were they going to just leave them here and not say what was going on!? If he had a phone, he could have asked his father what had happened--

 

Suddenly, Tseng was in the room. He frantically looked around until he spotted Rufus at his table in the middle and ran over. “Sir, come with me!”

 

Rufus grabbed his bag and quickly followed his bodyguard out if the room and down the hall. “What’s happening? They haven’t said anything.”

 

Tseng panted lightly. He must have sprinted down the stairs from the 69th floor. “Intruders in the building. They’re on multiple floors, we aren’t sure of their numbers yet.”

 

“How did they get in?”

 

“We’re investigating that now. I’m to get you to safety in the meantime.” Tseng hurried along, keeping his eyes out for everything that went on around them. Rufus had never seen him in action before and it was impressive. He couldn’t enjoy it however, because he was a little scared.

 

Rufus wondered why he had been taken away from the library. “What about the library? There are people still there, but it wasn’t safe?”

 

Tseng frowned. “They’ll be fine. You’re the president’s son, and if the enemy saw you then you would be in more danger. They’re not important, so they won’t be harmed. We’re to find a secure location and hide.”

 

Rufus frowned. “How would they know I’m the president’s son?”

 

Tseng raised an eyebrow at him. “You have a very striking appearance, sir.”

 

Rufus supposed that was true. There weren’t many people who had the same striking hair color, and his clothes definitely stuck out as things a privileged boy would wear. He didn’t usually think, let alone  _ worry _ about Father, but if there were intruders, they were probably after him. “Is Father okay?” he asked, revealing more concern than he wanted in his voice.

 

Tseng’s frown never left his face. “Most likely. I don’t know, but it is unlikely that he’s been harmed. The security detail above floor 59 is very high.”

 

As if to emphasize this fact, a SOLDIER with long, silver hair turned the corner and dashed past them, headed towards the stairwell--probably heading upwards to the 70th floor. If Tseng hadn’t been looking ahead, he would have missed the man for his speed and light footing. He only glanced back behind him to confirm it was whom he thought it was.

 

Rufus had almost missed the man, as well, and he looked behind them to see the man throw open the door to the stairway and practically fly up to the next level before the door closed. “That was Sephiroth--!”

 

Tseng pulled him along, seemingly unfazed by the awe-inducing SOLDIER. “Yes, and he’s going to protect your father, most likely. Please hurry, sir.”

 

Rufus frowned. What was Sephiroth doing on the research floor? He figured the man must have free time, sometimes. He jogged along beside his bodyguard, knowing he couldn’t slow down or he would keep Tseng from doing his job. The least he could do was make it easier for him. “Where do we hide?”

 

Tseng slowed when they got to the end of the hallway, and a group of infantrymen ran past after giving Tseng a look. “This floor is as good as any, it looks like.” He pushed open the door to a conference room and ushered the boy inside, then shut the door behind them and surveyed the room.

 

Rufus sat down in one of the chairs at the long, oval table. He couldn’t tell what Tseng was surveying, since the room was small and devoid of anything but the table and chairs around it, but he supposed Turks were trained to look for things he couldn’t see. “Are we safe in here?” he asked, tentatively.

 

Tseng went around the table silently noting things invisible to Rufus. “It seems both Security and SOLDIER have been called to defend every floor, so we’re in the safest place possible, sir.” He knelt down and unlatched the vent at the back of the wall near the floor, and peered inside before pulling it all the way open so the grate leaned against the wall on top. He then went back to the front of the room and stood in front of the door, with his gun drawn. Rufus hadn’t even noticed him draw his gun. “Keep me between you and the door at all times, sir. If the worst should happen and someone finds us, hide under the table until you can get into the air vent.”

 

Rufus glanced at the air vent. Tseng actually expected him to go in there? He had just said they were safe. “I won’t have to though, right?”

 

Tseng didn’t take his eyes off the door. “You need to be prepared to do so, sir. I have to listen to movement in the halls now, so I need you to be quiet,” he said calmly, not at all commanding.

 

Rufus closed his mouth and nodded, though Tseng couldn’t see it. He watched as Tseng barely moved a muscle, if only to keep himself from growing stiff in his position in front of the door. Rufus played with the strap of his bag absently, his mind racing as it usually was. He didn’t think he was scared, because he trusted Tseng. He was one of the best trained agents Shinra had, and he never failed in his missions. But he was still nervous; he’d never really been in danger before. Nobody had ever outright attacked Shinra.

 

He could only assume they would regret it immediately. Shinra’s security would overwhelm the enemy and they’d be forced to either abort or die. He wasn’t in any danger, even if Tseng was taking the situation seriously. It was because Shinra took situations like this seriously that he didn’t feel scared.

 

How could Tseng stand there and take this seriously for so long? After quite a while, Rufus couldn’t hold back any longer and he asked. “Aren’t you mad that you’re stuck here while everyone else fights?”

 

Tseng didn’t seem to mind him speaking. Maybe he had let down his guard, a little bit. “Not at all, sir. I have the most important job.”

 

Rufus frowned. Now he was just trying to make Rufus feel important. “You aren’t even doing anything, though. There isn’t any danger.”

 

Rufus thought he heard Tseng sigh a little. “I am the last line of defense if they fail, sir. I can’t fail, no matter what.”

 

Rufus still thought he was over-exaggerating, but he relented. A little. “Father said we’re safe in this building, though, that nobody would ever dare attack. He said they were too scared. They’re probably running away, now.”

 

Tseng took a moment before answering, as if he weren’t totally focused on the conversation, and was actually doing his job. “Obviously someone felt brave enough to attack, sir. Now please, I must focus.”

 

Rufus fell silent again, allowing Tseng to concentrate, even if he no longer thought they were in any possible danger. Whomever had decided to attack the building had grossly miscalculated, for sure. The last time Rufus had checked the rosters for SOLDIER and the army, he’d calculated that it was physically impossible for an enemy force to operate against Shinra within these walls. Shinra’s troops would take them out before they could get anywhere. But even then, how had they gotten in? He briefly considered that maybe it had been an elaborate unscheduled drill ordered by his father when he heard a sudden  _ boom _ , and the floor shook beneath them.

 

Rufus started. “What was that?”

 

Tseng didn’t move, completely unfazed. “It sounded like an explosion.”

 

“Below us!?” An explosion closer to the ground meant the higher floors would put stress on the weakened foundation. Was the enemy trying to bring down the building!?

 

Tseng frowned, but didn’t seem too alarmed. “It wasn’t large. Though it is still disconcerting. Be ready to move if need be, sir.”

 

Rufus couldn’t tell if he was scared, anymore. He was anxious, but still completely confident that Shinra would prevail in this matter, so he didn’t think he was scared. He was simply uncomfortable, and irritated that these people had seen fit to ruin his day. What were they trying to accomplish? Who had attacked the building!? He wanted to know, immediately. However, with any luck, the fastest report he would get would be one he stole a look at in his father’s messages later.

 

Maybe they’d seen how hopeless the situation was, and had given up? That way, nobody would get hurt and they could talk about their problems.

 

After a torturously long period, Tseng’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He drew it out immediately and read it, keeping his gun at the ready. Once he read the message however, he dropped his guard and sighed, snapping his phone shut. He turned to Rufus and said, calmly, “The building is clear. I’m to take you to your estate and stay there until I receive further instructions.”

 

Rufus nodded wordlessly and followed his bodyguard. Once he was at his estate he’d be free to snoop around and get some answers.

 

########

 

Rufus wasn’t explicitly forbidden from snooping in his father’s messages (he’d probably been forgotten about, anyway, and would never be briefed on the situation) and they’d never limited what Tseng could tell him, so Rufus took Tseng’s message reports and combined them with what he found in Shinra’s message database to figure out what was going on. Apparently his hypothesis had been correct, and the enemy strike team had been far too small to do any real damage before being neutralized by Shinra security. That was the term they were using, ‘neutralized’. Not one of the enemy had survived.

 

The last few were cornered on the 15th floor with no escape, and they’d opted to blow themselves up instead of let themselves be captured. That was what the small explosion had been.

 

Rufus actually shuddered when he read that. He knew that people were being killed in the war all the time, but this was close to home. People had actually died in his father’s building. He’d  _ heard _ the explosion that had ripped three people apart. It was a foreign concept to him and he didn’t like how unprepared he was for how it made him feel. He had been perfectly safe while others had died in the same building.

 

The biggest revelation was that they weren't Wutaian troops in disguise. From what the Turks found, they were citizens of Midgar, either hired or recruited by Wutai to infiltrate the building and kill the president. They had vastly underestimated the amount of security the building entailed, however. Sephiroth--like Tseng--hadn’t even seen combat, standing at the president’s side for the entire duration. The point was, however, that the Wutaian resistance had sympathizers on the eastern continent that, if left unchecked, could cause damage.

 

Rufus was annoyed that he probably never would have known all of this if he hadn’t gone looking. After a long period of sitting and making idle conversation (at least it was with Tseng, for he was at least tolerable), they were finally called back to the building to see the president. Rufus was surprised the man had even remembered him.

 

########

 

Tseng pulled out his phone for about the thirtieth time after receiving the all-clear message. He was, naturally, disappointed that he hadn’t actually done anything while the rest of the Turks had almost apprehended one of the intruders (before he blew himself up, unfortunately), but he genuinely believed that he had done an important job himself. Without him, Rufus’ safety would not have been assured. Even though all he had done was hide in a conference room…

 

His phone buzzed again, and he flipped through the new messages. One was a more detailed investigation of one of the intruders they had been able to identify, and another was an unexpected message from Goran. Tseng frowned, wondering if the man had the gall to joke at a time like this, but quickly relaxed his brow after reading the first words.

 

**From: Goran**

**good work today. i hear u ran down about 40 flights in record time to get your charge, that's crazy. good job not freaking out, and you can help with the investigation once things have settled.**

 

Tseng blinked. Goran was actually trying to be serious. Either he had intentionally not used a “u” on place of the “you” in the last sentence, or really he was messing with Tseng all the time and had forgotten to replace it with the more informal option. He shook his head, and sent a reply saying he’d be glad to help.

 

As a bodyguard, he’d learned that a lot of the job was simply following his charge around wherever he needed to go, which often happened to be back and forth between places. He’d long since gotten over the inefficiency of them running off to the Shinra estate, only to bring Rufus right back once the event that had sent them there was over. Some things were simply inefficient, in favor of keeping his charge safe. One perk was that he had memorized every route between the Shinra estate and Headquarters, and he didn’t even have to think about watching to see if anything was out of place or dangerous. He would know instantly without even looking. And so, that freed up a fraction of his brain’s processing power for other things, such as how he’d be assisting the investigation, and how Rufus had a rather odd expression on his face as a result of the day’s events. He’d think about that, too.

 

They left the elevator on the 69th floor and headed up the stairs to the 70th. Tseng very rarely had a reason to see the president other than escorting his son to see him, and the last time he’d done so it hadn’t ended well. Tseng hoped this time would go better, for the sake of everyone’s nerves.

 

He followed Rufus up into the president’s large office and, as usual, he heard the voices of executives babbling on. This time they sounded more urgent--which was expected considering the day’s events. Scarlet was absolutely indignant that someone had ruined her presentation. She’d have to reschedule, and that was always  _ such _ a hassle. Heidegger laughed his unpleasant laugh that grated on Tseng’s nerves, apparently disappointed that the enemy hadn’t even been a challenge for his SOLDIER operatives. Tseng didn’t know why Palmer was there, but he supposed all the executives were welcome at all of the meetings. And finally, Reeve looked very obviously distraught over the whole debacle, and possibly over the fact that Scarlet was inching towards him overtly.

 

The president was more calm than Tseng had expected him to be, but his mood was still soured. Heidegger laughed again, and the president told him to shut up and get serious. “If you get off topic again I’ll adjourn the meeting and cut your budget. I’ll put it towards something actually  _ worthwhile. _ ” When that shut Heidegger up, he then turned to Reeve. “Reeve, you were about to say something I believe?”

 

Reeve visibly steeled himself. Tseng felt for him, and silently applauded his determination to actually work with these people, and have his views heard. “You asked for my opinion on what urban issues could have contributed to the attack. I have a few that I could bring to the military’s attention, as well as this general board--”

 

“Just get on with it, Reeve,” the president grumbled.

 

Reeve nodded anxiously. “Yes, Mr. President. The biggest issue with the people as of right now is the cost of energy plans. Even the cheapest plan is too expensive for the average slum-dweller, and they’ve had to sacrifice much just to get lights working down there. And then there is the issue of pollution, where a lot of it sinks to below the plate and can't escape--”

 

Heidegger cut in. “Wait a second, you’re talking about the problems  _ slum-dwellers _ have with our company? Now look who's off topic!”

 

Reeve frowned, offended. “The slums are full of discontented people, and they may have decided to vent their frustrations in a violent manner. I am not saying they're all in on it, just that someone who originates from the slums would have a motive to attack.”

 

It was Scarlet’s turn to laugh, with her equally-grating, but somehow more uncomfortable cackle. “You really think a slum-dweller would have the resources to pull this off? Most of them never even  _ leave _ the slums, Reeve-dear, let alone have the time or money to think of a plan like this. Don't be an idiot.”

 

Tseng saw Rufus shift in his peripheral vision and cross his arms over his chest, obviously bored. Reeve subconsciously pulled away from Scarlet’s suggestive lean towards him, and he somehow gathered the will to further defend his stance. “My other suspect group would include people from the upper-plate with the same concerns, or similar ones. Not everyone is content with the way things are, and they feel as if they have no way out because of the private nature of their government--one which they have no voice in. Even if the culprits were found to not be from Midgar, I think it would be wise to rethink some of our business strategies, to appease the masses.”

 

That was the most the president would let him speak, it seemed like. “Reeve, if the people wanted to get out of poverty and the pollution and stop living off of scraps, they would get a job on the Plate like all the other upstanding citizens. Focus on doing your job and keep your ‘business strategies’ to yourself.”

 

Reeve’s mind raced; the president was missing his point. “Sir, I only meant that we could possibly reduce emissions in the reactors. That alone shouldn't be difficult, and I think it would help to--”

 

“Enough, Reeve!” the president yelled. “Your opinion has been noted, and we’ve determined that it is irrelevant.” He sighed in frustration, slumping and leaning on one arm over his desk. “Veld!”

 

Tseng’s gaze shot towards the corner where a figure had been standing the whole time and he  _ hadn’t noticed a thing. _ Veld addressed his superior. “Sir.”

 

The president waved him away, in a manner that Tseng found rather insulting. “Go have your Turks search for people with connections to Wutai. I want them all on a list, and then any shady characters are to be apprehended and interrogated. Go.”

 

Veld bowed and let himself out immediately. Tseng frowned, first because he hadn't even noticed his superior was in the room, and second because he hoped Veld hadn't been standing there, just waiting for orders. He was the leader of the Turks, he had more important things to do! Tseng hid his indignation well, with years of practice. Neither Veld nor Reeve deserved such treatment.

 

And of course there was the matter of documenting or interrogating anyone with connections to Wutai. He assumed he himself would be an exception, but it seemed counter-productive to single out people in such a way. They still hadn’t proven that Wutai was behind the attack, after all.

 

“Where is my son?” the president asked, still moody and irritable.

 

Rufus stepped forward, unfolding his arms, but not changing the narrow-eyed and impatient scowl on his face. “I’m right here, Father.”

 

The president looked him up and down quickly. “You’re unharmed?”

 

“Naturally, with Tseng protecting me,” Rufus said matter-of-factly, and Tseng’s heart soared for a moment. He couldn’t help it. Rufus had just outwardly endorsed his performance in a professional setting for the first time ever.

 

The president then  _ waved his son away in the same manner as he had Veld. _ “Good, go back to your duties.”

 

Rufus frowned, indignantly, and for a good reason. “Father, you called me all the way here just to see if I was--”

 

“Are you questioning my orders?” the president said, in a threatening tone. “Go back to your duties.” He looked at Tseng with the same dark expression. “And you, stay with him today. Make sure nothing happens. Get out.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Tseng bowed slightly, and followed Rufus after he’d spun on one heel and left.

 

Since Rufus had him the whole day, and most of their prior arrangements had been canceled, Rufus made it a point to do everything he was usually unable to do without a bodyguard. They went to various places out in the city--places that he could have easily called, like his tailor, but Tseng suspected that the boy wanted people to put a face to his name and voice. Tseng assumed that Rufus was using this time to enjoy being out of the building, but he could tell Rufus was distracted and irritable. He’d at least done his best to not take it out on the tailor, however.

 

At the end of the day, he escorted the boy back to his estate and mentally prepared himself for the load of work he had to finish because of the day’s interruption. He would also let Veld know he was available for help investigating the next day, and hope the president didn’t irrationally order him to watch Rufus all day again. He agreed that Rufus should be protected, but he would be fine with his prior security detail while Tseng worked.

 

He just tried not to notice the permanent scowl that had made itself welcome on the boy’s face lately.

 

########

 

Rufus scowled. Father was being stupid, again. He could have just called, and said he was okay from the estate. And he didn’t need Tseng following him around like a babysitter anymore. It wasted a lot of time, and Tseng was busy. He’d probably have to stay late at the office to finish his mission paperwork, on top of today’s report. Father wasn’t obligated to consider the comfort of his employees, but it was asinine of him not to do so and Rufus was angry.

 

Not only that, but once he had shown Father that he was fine, he’d been dismissed without another word. No ‘Thank the Goddess you’re okay, my son!’ or ‘I fear what would have happened if the Turks hadn’t protected you!’. He was an afterthought, only addressed after Father was done being frustrated with his executives. Rufus knew he didn’t need such sentiment, but it would have been nice to know that his father actually cared that he’d been in danger.

 

Whatever. He wasn’t in any real danger. He should just forget it. He was still angry that Father had made them go all the way out there for something he could have done on the phone. When he became president, he’d never do inconsiderate things like that.

 

Tseng was talking to him. He figured he’d better listen, lest he look like an inconsiderate ass like Father. He tuned in again as they made their way up the steps to the house.

 

“This shouldn’t affect your schedule at all, sir. Security in the building has been raised for the time being, but the Turks will handle the investigation and determine who was behind the attack. You’ll still be safe, even without me.”

 

Rufus snorted. “Good. I know you’re eager to get back to your actual work.”

 

Tseng frowned, but smiled despite the jab. “I am eager to catch the culprit, yes, but if I am ordered by your father to do otherwise I will do so without complaint. It isn’t as if I can’t enjoy being your bodyguard, sir.”

 

Rufus frowned suddenly, as he stopped at the door. He shouldn’t have been offend, but he was, and Tseng had noticed and looked apologetic. It wasn’t his fault, he’d only said the truth. Rufus only hated being associated with… that man. He looked up, trying not to scowl so hard. “Are you ever going to stop calling me ‘sir’? I'm not my father, you can use my name.”

 

Tseng blinked. “It would be inappropriate to call you anything else, sir.”

 

Rufus frowned deeper and looked at the ground. He didn’t care how ‘inappropriate’ it sounded, he wanted to be addressed as his own person, not some extension of his father. Everyone was always so scared of making him angry that they were always so formal. “Nobody ever just calls me by my name.” He turned away and opened the door, heading in. “Good night, Tseng.”

 

“Goodnight--sir.”

 

Rufus glanced back at the hesitation, then smirked. He quickly went inside and shut the door to give Tseng a break. He might have had a heart attack if Rufus had acknowledged it further.

 

He’d thought about it. But old habits were hard to break, and he hadn’t gone through with it. Maybe he would in due time.

 

Rufus thought about that, a little longer. Perhaps it was his own fault everyone always tiptoed around him, since he’d manipulated them so much in the past. He doubted it, however. They would be scared of him anyway for being his father’s son. So effectively, he hadn’t done a thing. It was still his connection to their company’s president that had done the work.

 

He went to his room and closed the door, even though he didn’t expect Father to be home any time soon--let alone care to come by and look inside his room--and went over to his workspace and set up his notebook. The day’s events had him thinking hard about a certain case, and he realized he’d never actually looked for information about it despite its importance to him.

 

Most likely he wouldn’t have to crack into anything to find it, but he was prepared just in case. He searched for an incident that occurred the day of the SOLDIER announcement. September 1986. The day his mother was killed.

 

Rufus never spent time thinking about it, but the attack on the building had dug up some memories he’d forgotten. He remembered asking people where his mother was, and they’d never answer him. They’d look at him with pity, and distract him with something. He remembered missing his mother, but he didn’t actually remember how it felt. She was just gone, and he’d stopped worrying about it quickly. It was just something in his memory that he felt nothing about, sort of like how he remembered learning to say the word ‘yellow’ when he was about two but felt nothing about the memory. Later of course he’d found out his mother had been killed, and Father was convinced Wutai was responsible. It was a logical thought, except that they’d never caught the culprit.

 

Rufus was curious as to why that was. Did they find any evidence? He wanted to review it for himself, and he didn’t want to ask anyone for it and cause unnecessary grief. He found the case without any special protection or encryption, and opened it.

 

There were investigation reports, stating they’d noticed the disappearance of a group of construction workers in correlation with the time of the assassination attempt, but none of them had been located after the attack. There was a single sighting of a suspicious man in the slums causing trouble, but he too remained at large. Every one of the Turks (except their new rookie, Tseng, of course, which Rufus smiled at when he read) were assigned to the case for three weeks, and after that the case was pushed down on the list of priorities. Not even the Turks had been able to solve the case. Because of this, assumptions and suspicions further strained the relationship between Wutai and Shinra.

 

The case was cold, it seemed.

 

Rufus stared at the case file, frowning deeply. Father hadn’t even looked at the case file for six years. Had he just stopped caring? All he cared about was making money, it seemed. Even if Mother hadn’t been killed, Father still would have started this war with Wutai over money. Mother’s death didn’t mean a thing to him.

 

It hardly meant anything to Rufus, either, he supposed. Life went on. He couldn’t even remember her face anymore. He recognized her from the case file, but in another week he would forget again.

 

He closed the file and deleted his history, not wanting a single reason to speak to Father any more than necessary, even if it was unlikely that he would ever find out Rufus had looked. It was tragic that his mother had been killed, but he was too young at the time to have been affected at all. He was merely irritated that Shinra hadn’t solved the case, and it was being used as ammunition against Wutai without proof.

 

He remembered that his mother was always nice. She would read to him every night. He put it out of his mind, for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Before Crisis Player Turks: Idfk how old they are or when they’re recruited, I used my best writing skills and what little we do know about them. I’m using the names from Gunshot Romance because the “official” ones are STUPID. I have nothing against the names themselves, but they just… don’t fit the characters at all. /unpopular opinion??
> 
> 2) You know that fricking WATERFALL at Elmyra’s house? Yeah no. That doesn’t exist. The GARDEN comes later once Aerith has been there for years and helps shit grow or something.
> 
> 3) In the OGC Tseng meets Aerith for the first time and she hates him, of course. In OTWTAS Case of Shinra, Tseng “protects” her for a while before telling her his true purpose. I went with the OGC because I’m trying to stay with the original game as much as possible.
> 
> 4) One more thing: Countries. Wutai is… a village in the OGC. But it’s a country? Maybe? So I figure Midgar would be the capital of a country, or something? I wish we had more development on the actual places on the map. What are countries? We just don’t know. The Chocobo Ranch seceded years ago and became their own country and nobody noticed.


	9. Tension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rufus meets a Redhead and Goes To Wal-Mart, Tseng hunts down a comrade, and nothing is okay anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry bout the chapter breakup, but it got way long and the flow wasn’t the same as I wanted it to be. I can’t fricking believe how long this chapter is, but I like long chapter updates myself, so I hope you enjoy! This chapter did not want to end. I am sorry. Tell me if any parts are boring.

“I have two things to ask of you,” Rufus asked tersely, mostly to avoid speaking to his father any longer than necessary rather than to save his father’s precious time. “Well, three actually.”

 

The president frowned at his son, but relented immediately. “What is it?”

 

Rufus blinked, not expecting to get that far. The president didn’t look as if he were in any kind of a good mood, but he hadn’t fussed as he usually did. Rufus quickly took advantage of the situation. “In light of recent events, I think it would be wise for me to have a phone on me, so I can contact Tseng when I need him.” He didn’t add that he could use it for other things; Father didn’t need to know what freedoms he would be giving Rufus.

 

The president’s response was gruff. “Fine. Number two?”

 

“My trip itinerary is finished. I sent it to you last night, but you never replied.”

 

“I’ll sign it sometime today. Number three?” The president looked almost bored. Bored was better than angry.

 

Rufus hesitated before throwing caution to the wind. If not now, when else would he be able to? “I’d like a guard dog. I know Professor Hojo has quite a few specimens that are already used in the field.”

 

To that, the president blinked and actually  _ chuckled _ . “A guard dog? Isn’t that what you have the Turk for?”

 

Rufus forced himself not to narrow his eyes in irritation. Sure, Tseng did whatever he was told, but he wasn’t a  _ dog. _ “Tseng can’t be with me at all times. With a guard dog next to me, I will never be endangered again as I was before Tseng found me the day of the attack.”

 

The president frowned darkly at that. Rufus wondered if he had gone too far, but he stood his ground. If Father cared about his wellbeing, he would allow it.

 

His father stared for a few moments, then scoffed lightly in amusement. “Fine. Go down to the dear professor and tell him I gave you permission to choose whatever ‘guard dog’ you want. You’ll have to train the beast yourself, if you want it to listen to you.”

 

“I’m quite aware of that, Father,” Rufus said without inflection. As he got older, it grew more and more difficult to keep his sarcastic comments to himself. He figured, however, that when asking Father for things, he’d better reign it in. He yearned for the day when he wouldn’t have to ask for things any longer.

 

The president nodded decisively. “Fine. Let me know how it goes,” he almost grinned. It was unnerving to see Father grin, and Rufus let himself out as quickly as possible. Since Father had given him permission (albeit in a single word without any explanation) he went down to the president’s secretary and asked her to order a phone for him and have it sent to his house. Since he was the president’s son, she believed him instantly of course. He kept this in mind, however decided not to act on it because of the dreaded ‘nepotism’ he’d learned of recently. He could ask for anything and they’d give it to him, even without proof that his father had given permission--but that was nepotism. Gross.

 

He could have asked Tseng to accompany him to Floor 67, but the man was probably busy with important things and Rufus felt the need to be more independent, even if the professor made him exceedingly uncomfortable. The man was weird, and he didn’t regard Father with the respect that was owed someone of his status. Rufus almost admired Hojo for that disregard for political hierarchy, but he wondered why Father let him get away with it when he punished anyone else who acted accordingly. Was the Science Department head really that important?

 

He attempted pushing his thoughts away as he made his way down to Floor 67, but failed. He could never really  _ stop _ himself from thinking about something. Ever since he could remember, he’d decided to do exactly the opposite, and never stop thinking. So even if it was detrimental to his nerves, he kept thinking about the dear professor and how he would go about their conversation.

 

As always, the professor waved him off at first, as he was in the middle of an important experiment. Rufus couldn’t tell what it was or why staring into a microscope could be so important, and he didn't really care. The faster he was out of here, the better. Hopefully he could word it in a way that would attract the professor's attention, if not his ire (which would still probably get his attention in turn).

 

Rufus folded his arms in the best emulation of an impatient client he could muster. “I want to have a look at your hounds. The ones you've bred for battle? Father said I could have one.”

 

The man immediately furrowed his brow and drew himself away from the microscope. “Daddy said you could have one of my hounds? Does the dear president even know how much it costs to breed these? Or how useless they would be as pets?”

 

He almost spat the last word, and Rufus was glad he was far away to not have to worry about getting hit by old man spittle. He kept his gaze calm and determined. “It won’t be a pet in the least. It's a guard dog, for when I'm by myself.”

 

Hojo waved him away,  _ again. _ “Tell the president you don’t need a war hound for a bodyguard within the building. That’s what you have the Turks for, isn’t it?”

 

Rufus let his frustration show, this time, furrowing his brow deeply. Hiding his emotions from Hojo didn’t matter as much as it did hiding them from Father. “The Turks have better things to do than babysit me. I’ll have a look at your hounds, now.”

 

The professor didn’t relent. “Go get a dog from a breeder, or something. My hounds are strictly for field use.”

 

And that was the opening that he needed. Rufus smirked. “That is exactly why I came to you. I want the best guard hound the Planet has to offer, not some mutt from a street shop.”

 

Hojo actually stopped in his tracks, and turned. He didn’t fall for it completely, but Rufus wanted to think the man was intrigued just a little bit. “I’m glad to know that someone appreciates my specimens for what they truly are. But they’re not pets. I doubt they can even be trained for what you want.”

 

“They’re trained to attack, and that’s all I need one for,” Rufus said smoothly. “They can obey commands, yes?”

 

“If you want it to obey  _ you,  _ you’ll have to work with it yourself. That’s how it works in the military.”

 

Rufus nodded. “Fine with me. I assume that I’ll need to be in a supervised environment while I train it?”

 

Hojo actually grumbled when he realized this. Rufus would need to spend several hours in  _ his laboratory, _ taking up space and asking stupid questions. Rufus grinned. Of course, he didn’t think such things of himself, but it was gratifying to know that he could annoy the scientist to such an extent.

 

He’d never been around animals, so he didn’t really know which one to choose, but he figured an older pup would be ideal because raising a puppy was a lot of work, and he needed a guard dog as soon as possible. He chose the one that didn’t try to bite him, hoping it wasn’t just lazy. Training her was a lot of work, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle; it was essentially repeating the same thing over and over until the beast learned a command. He got her to come when called, and sit still before announcing that she was no longer dangerous and that he’d be training her on his own from then on. Both he and the professor were glad about the arrangement.

 

He named her Dark Nation. Why? It seemed cool. He was eleven, and he didn’t have to explain his naming choice to anyone. They could buzz off.

 

########

 

Tseng made his way up to Floor 66 (via the stairs, of course) to pick up his charge from an executive meeting. Apparently the boy had insisted on being present for such things, and the president had allowed it. Tseng didn't question it, merely wondered what had possessed Rufus to do something so masochistic.

 

The trip to the western continent had been as uneventful as ever, with Rufus complaining that he really hadn’t learned anything new (which was something he complained about often). He’d visited a few of their investors’ companies, but the experience was relatively the same he had at Shinra. What he had  _ really _ wanted to see was a different culture, or something, but the president would never allow him to walk among the common people. Having seen what the common man could do, Tseng didn’t fault the president for that.

 

Rufus was doing everything in his power to learn what he could about the world, but with limited viewpoints at his disposal he could only guess how the rest of the world worked. Tseng tried to help as much as he could, but even the life of a Turk was vastly different than that of a common man. He was no longer as connected to the people as he had been. He supposed it wasn’t his job to be, but he wished he still had that viewpoint. More knowledge was always better.

 

It seemed Rufus believed that himself, considering his interest in executive meetings. Tseng had a suspicion that Rufus would once again complain to him about how much he had already known, which was probably everything. He hopped up onto the Floor 60 landing only slightly out of breath, as he’d been using the stairs from the very bottom floor for roughly six years and he’d finally gotten used to his pace. He swiped his ID, the card reader blinked green and the door slid open for him. He then made his way up the executive staircase to Floor 66 and opened the door to the fluorescent hallway.

 

He made his way around to the conference room in the middle of the floor, and saw Rufus waiting on a bench outside the room. The boy looked up at hearing Tseng’s soft footsteps, then quickly shut his notebook and stowed it in his shoulderbag. Tseng walked up to him, footsteps hurried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come right away, sir.”

 

Rufus scowled at him, seemingly  _ pouting. _ “Please try to be quicker next time. Father left me with Scarlet.”

 

Tseng’s eyes widened, and he almost shuddered at the thought. The meeting had ended early and Tseng had been finishing up his tasks so he couldn’t retrieve Rufus right as he received the message. Rufus was perfectly capable of waiting alone on Floor 66, but it seemed that Scarlet had kept him unwanted company this time. “I’m very sorry, sir.”

  
Rufus scowled further, then started down the hall towards the elevator.. “She acts like she’s the greatest woman ever, like everyone should like her. But… she’s gross to me. I don’t understand how anyone would be interested in that.”

 

Tseng didn’t want to think about that. Goran would probably be interested, if Scarlet never spoke a word during their time together. “People have their preferences, sir.” He didn’t mention that he would be worried if Rufus  _ were _ interested because he was  _ eleven. _

 

“Do you like her?”

 

Tseng blinked, then looked down at the boy’s curious-but-slightly-judgmental gaze. He had honestly  _ never _ in all of his existence ever considered liking Scarlet in such a manner. Or at all, really. All the same, he blushed as Rufus’ suggestion. “Uh… She is not on my list of preferences, sir.”

 

“What  _ is _ your preference?”

 

Rufus was certainly curious today. Tseng struggled to find a reply. “I haven’t really thought about it, sir. My job doesn’t allow for companionship, even if I had time for it.”   
  


Rufus seemed satisfied with that answer. “Hmph. Father keeps trying to get me to talk to girls. I’ll never like them.”

 

Tseng found himself distracted by those thoughts the entire time he was escorting Rufus around, and then for the rest of the day. He truly hadn’t ever really thought about it. Nobody had ever expressed interest in him (other than Scarlet), and he hadn’t ever thought about what kind of person he would be interested in. Did he even have interests? Now he was thinking about it too much. Someone was going to notice. Goran was going to notice.

 

He noticed.

 

Tseng had been staring at a page of a report for too long with a strange expression on his face, apparently, and Goran noticed. He noticed  _ everything _ Tseng did that was out of the ordinary. It was as if his life mission were to point out every time Tseng was feeling uncomfortable, and then exploit it for humorous purposes. What he didn’t expect was for Goran to hit the issue right on the nose, the first time.

 

“You thinkin’ about someone?”

 

At first, Tseng had no idea what he was talking about, because no, he wasn’t thinking about anyone in particular, only that he was confused why he never had before, but now he was wondering if he had a preference and what kind of preference that would be, but he couldn’t think of anything because he didn’t have any experience, and wasn’t that weird? He hadn’t noticed any of his other junior Turks expressing preferences, so he figured it wasn’t weird, and that they were all just busy. But Goran had asked him a question. He was probably assuming Tseng was thinking about someone  _ oh Gaia he was thinking Tseng was in love and thinking about someone. _ He forced himself not to sputter his reply. “Th-That’s none of your business,” he stuttered. Stuttering was better than sputtering.

 

Goran actually laughed. “You look like you’re gonna burst a blood vessel in your head. What happened? I bet I can help.” He sat on the arm of the chair in front of Tseng, crossing his arms casually.

 

Tseng scowled. “You probably could, but it’s none of your business. I’ll… figure it out on my own.” Somehow. He might have to do some research, during all of his  _ loads of spare time. _

 

Goran smirked. “Yeah, you look really prepared to do that. Well, just know that I am a master of solving problems. Also, alcohol helps. Maybe accept my offer to go out next time, and you’ll see something you like.” He got up and walked away without another word.

 

Tseng couldn’t believe it. Was he really that easy to read!? He supposed it was nice that he hadn’t had to explain anything (he didn’t want to, but it was also nice to get it off his chest, if that made sense?), but had Goran actually read him or had he just guessed? He wouldn’t know unless he asked.

 

And asking would mean admitting defeat.

 

He sighed. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Not tonight. Later, maybe. Paperwork first.

 

########   
  


Rufus sat in yet another boring budget meeting, his head rested on one fist, blinking in the harsh artificial light. His mind was wandering, to any place other than here. He knew that he should have been paying attention, but he couldn’t help it. Palmer’s voice was so. Boring. And all he ever talked about was how the Space Program was well under way to actually sending a rocket into space, when in actuality it wouldn’t be financially feasible for another ten years at least. Why was he even here? Why did they even have a space department when they still had problems here on their own Planet?

 

His mind wandered to the western continent where he had at least felt real sunlight. He’d made Tseng take him outside as much as possible, trying to enjoy it while it lasted. If Midgar reduced its emissions, it could enjoy the sunlight, too. The problem was convincing Father that sunlight was important. Reeve had already tried that, and failed miserably.

 

Could Rufus do better, however?

 

He dragged his mind back to the meeting and listened to the tail end of one of Palmer’s idiotic motions, and finally Father waved him off and moved on to a different point. Scarlet talked for a while about things the company really didn’t need, and Heidegger talked about raising the Public Safety budget even more so they could hire even more SOLDIER, and Reeve tried to push one of his progressive bids again before being cut off, then Hojo popped in to propose one of his new projects which Father immediately approved, because the Science Department could do no wrong since they had created Shinra’s beloved SOLDIER. All of it was annoying and completely unnecessary, and  _ how could no one else see that? _

 

Well, except for Reeve. But Reeve still wasn’t getting the job done.

 

Rufus was glad he’d set his phone to send a message to his father near the end of the meeting time, asking if they could speak alone. He wasn’t doing this in front of the others, again, and having them laugh him out of the room. They were all adults, and they acted like  _ children. _ So Rufus waited patiently for his father to wrap up the meeting and finally check his phone. While the others gathered their materials and filed out of the room, the president called him over, saying they’d talk privately.To their credit, at hearing those words the others filed out more quickly than usual. Perhaps they feared Father’s wrath.

 

Rufus waited patiently, but awkwardly standing in front of his father until the room was clear. Then he waited for his father’s gruff “What do you want?”

 

Rufus steeled himself. The worst that could happen was Father laughing at him. He was used to that. “I notice that these meetings are very inefficient, mostly because of your advisors’ use of time. They address things that aren’t important.”

 

The president scoffed. “Maybe not important to you, they’re not. If you were going to complain about being bored, I never would have allowed you to sit in on these meetings.”

 

Rufus clenched his jaw. “That’s not what I mean. The departments themselves are important, but the things they propose are not. They’re wasting time with things we don’t need when there are other problems to discuss.”

 

The president raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He was going to laugh, soon, Rufus could feel it. “And you think you could do better? Is that what you’re saying, by bashing my advisors?”

 

“Yes. I could be a better advisor than everyone in the room.” He didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t mention that Palmer had no place in these meetings whatsoever because he didn’t think that would earn him any points.

 

And there it was, the president’s laugh. Rufus set his jaw and took it in stride. The president looked him right in the eye once he’d finished chuckling. “Are you trying to replace one of them?”

 

Rufus scowled. “Ideally, all of them. But for now, any one would do.”

 

“It would take too long to train you, supposing I did hire you. I don’t need to replace any of them.”

 

Rufus fought to keep his rising temper under control. What had he just said!? They were idiots, that why they needed to be replaced! “Then I could be in charge of a different department. You don’t have a… a Treasurer.” He cursed his memory. The Treasurer was a common position in a company, how had he forgotten the word?

 

The president waved his hand, like he did when he was about to send people away. “I deal with that myself. I don’t need my eleven-year-old son to do my work for me.”

 

“But it would make your life easier if all you had to do was oversee departments, and not do any specific work, yes?” Rufus was losing the argument. He wouldn’t give up until Father told him to go away, however.

 

“What’s the stock value of my company?”

 

Rufus blinked. Why was that important? And how was he supposed to know? Father didn’t know that Rufus could get into the financial records. There was no was Rufus was supposed to know.

 

The president went on. “If you don’t know that, you can’t be an advisor.”

 

Rufus was stunned. Did Father know? He hadn’t expressly  _ prohibited _ Rufus from looking at the records, but Rufus had had to hack in. He would probably get into trouble if Father found out. But things couldn’t keep going the way they were--! None of the others could tell Father the stock exchange rate, so why would Rufus not being able to be unimpressive!?

 

The president shook his head patronizingly, and moved to stand and throw Rufus out when the boy blurted out, “Up three percent.”

 

The president stopped and leaned back, frowning. “Is that a guess?”

 

If he didn’t know already, he would now, Rufus decided. “ I last checked it three weeks ago, and based on the pattern, I predict that it's up three percent.” His heart pounded in his chest. He was growing reckless, and he didn’t like not being in control of the outcome of this conversation.

 

The president frowned, then took out his phone, presumably looking the numbers up himself. Rufus stood there, trying not to look like he was sweating in his suit and handing onto his shoulder strap for dear life. Finally, the president looked up with a weird, blank expression.

 

“It’s two percent.”

 

Rufus’ stomach dropped, and he cursed himself. It wasn’t that big a difference, but it was just one more reason for Father to laugh at him.

 

The president sighed. It was coming. “I’ll tell you what. If you impress me, I’ll make you Vice President when you turn eighteen. Now go on, I’ve got work to do.” He stood, brushing down his suit jacket.

 

Rufus felt his rage consuming every thought. He had to get out of there before he said something stupid and changed his father’s mind. He turned on a heel and strode out to be escorted back to the estate.

 

########

 

The first thing Tseng noticed was the rage seemingly emanating from his charge when he picked him up from the Floor 66 hallway. He frowned sympathetically; those meetings couldn’t be good for the boy’s nerves. Rufus was very smart, but also very impatient, and when he saw a solution he didn’t understand any reason not to implement it immediately. The boy was learning very quickly just how much the company  _ didn’t _ get done in those meetings.

 

He sensed something more than usual was amiss when Rufus didn’t say a word even as they reached the transport and got inside. The sleek company car pulled out of the garage and Tseng looked over to his charge next to him. “Is something wrong, sir?”

 

Rufus didn't answer right away, but Tseng could tell he wanted to get something off his chest. It always took some wheedling to get Rufus to talk. “I asked Father if I could be an advisor.”

 

Tseng tried not to show sympathy. Rufus hated it. “And I assume that didn’t go well?”

 

Rufus pouted. Tseng supposed he had a right to. “No. It didn’t.”

 

Tseng didn’t say anything else, deciding that Rufus would speak when he wanted to. They sat in silence as the driver made his way around the inner part of the city to the Shinra estate, weaving in and out of parked cars and pedestrians. Tseng hoped the company had the resources to better organize the roads. Well, he knew they had the funds, but the question was whether they would allocate enough to Reeve’s tiny budget to allow for something so seemingly trivial and unimportant.

 

They were almost to the estate when Rufus finally spoke up, his anger too much to hold back. “He said he would make me Vice President when I turn eighteen, but only if I impress him.” He fumed. “Like I haven’t already!? I could do every one of his advisors’ jobs, all at once, and better than they can. But he’s never going to take my advice into consideration, simply because I’m young.”

 

Tseng frowned, trying to think of something helpful to say. “Perhaps he will when you’re Vice President. You have indeed been impressive, sir.” Tseng wanted to believe that the president really was impressed by his son’s drive and intellect, and he was merely pushing the boy to keep him on his toes.

 

Rufus folded his arms tightly. “I doubt even  _ then. _ He’s stupid. This whole war was a foolish idea.”

 

Tseng had nothing to say about that--mostly because he completely agreed with everything the boy had said. This whole situation could have been handled much differently. But it wasn’t his place to say.

 

Rufus looked up at him with a scowl, almost accusingly. Tseng tensed, put off guard. “Well? Say something! What do you think?”

 

Tseng blinked, feeling very much put on the spot. “... It isn’t my place to comment on such things, sir.”

 

“What am I going to do, tell my father? What’s your opinion, Tseng? I want to know.”

 

Tseng sat there, his mouth hanging open a fraction, struggling to formulate a reply. He felt like this was one of those times where he was supposed to bend the rules a little, for the sake of strengthening a social bond, but he never judged these situations well. Rufus was asking for advice, as a  _ friend, _ and Tseng felt that he should give it. But he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to mess this up.

 

His hesitation was the only mistake he could have made, however. Rufus sneered at him. “What, is this the first time you’ve  _ had _ an opinion?”

 

The jab felt like a punch to his gut. Whatever thoughts Tseng had been struggling with flew out the window and into the smog-filled air and were replaced with  _ hurt. _ Was that really what Rufus thought of him? He’d offered his opinion before, surely. But Rufus hadn’t thought anything of them, it seemed. He hid his betrayed feelings from the boy, though he suspected that Rufus wouldn’t even notice. He wasn’t one to pay attention to feelings, only actions and words. The boy was already looking out the window, and moving to get out of the car as they were nearing the mansion.

 

########

 

The two cadets that Tseng had assisted in recruiting were doing quite well in their new environment. Rosalind had decided to go by her real name, and was very confident in her ability to get the job done. Violet had chosen to go by her alias, Knife, and was still a little skittish but nonetheless she was flawless in her performance. Veld had chosen well, and Tseng had worked on his observation skills to see what Veld had seen in Knife and Rosalind in future recruits. Every time he was sent on a mission with one of the girls as backup, he watched them closely and learned more and more. He only hoped they didn’t discover that he wasn’t infallible; he felt like a senior when on missions with them, after all! Senior Turks were supposed to be infallible.

 

And so, the next time Veld assigned Tseng to recruit more Turks, this time  _ alone _ , Tseng felt at least a little capable. As he understood it, Veld didn’t have an age limit to whom Tseng could recruit, and this was a good thing because any cadets that weren’t part of a program after a week were claimed by the army--and most of the children that came through the Academy’s doors were as young as thirteen. The army was snatching every possible recruit up as fast as they possibly could, since every kid and their dog wanted to be a part of SOLDIER. The Turks didn’t have the same desperation when it came to recruiting--their numbers were doing well as of late--so they didn’t pay much attention to those who didn’t directly ask to join them. Tseng couldn’t help but think about how they were recruiting as a mere precaution, to keep the program afloat should they lose members in the war.

 

He shook the thought away, and held the door open for Rufus as they entered the Academy warmup-and-observation area.

 

Rufus had insisted on accompanying him, and Tseng didn’t see a problem with it as long as the boy didn’t interfere with his work, which he wouldn’t. Rufus was content to watch with him, and only ask meaningful questions about how Tseng would decide on whom to recruit. Tseng had always found it useful to teach what he knew, because it forced him to know it well enough to teach. And so he learned from every teaching experience. It seemed convoluted and circular, but he ended up better off after every exchange.

 

Rufus looked around at the candidates, rather unimpressed. “These kids want to join SOLDIER? Don’t they understand that less than ten percent of recruits have the physical capabilities to survive in the program?”

 

Tseng scanned the lot of them, quickly narrowing down his choices. “Not all of them, but most of them yes. Some are here for the military, some just to join the academy and gain a leadership role off the field, and some are trying to get in anywhere because they’re on probation.”

 

“Like criminals?” Rufus asked, an eyebrow raised. “Why would Shinra hire hooligans?”

 

“It’s a charity, it seems,” Tseng answered with distaste. These types of recruits usually had no discipline, and could only survive as a regular army recruit. “They can either work hard and succeed in a Security role of Shinra, or they can go to jail. I’m sure you’re aware of how brutal prison can be, sir.”

 

Rufus hummed in response. Tseng glanced down at him and noticed the boy wasn’t as put off as he would have liked him to be. He almost looked  _ intrigued _ at the idea of seeing hooligans and rebels.

 

Oh,  _ gods _ no.

 

Tseng could only hope and pray that Rufus wasn’t in his rebellious phase. Twelve was too young for it. Thirteen, as well. In fact, there should never be a rebellious phase. Tseng never went through one, after all, and he’d turned out fine! He suddenly regretted bringing Rufus here, not only because it was cutting into his concentration, but because Rufus was looking at all the  _ terrible examples of recruits that he would never choose even if they were the last choice on the Planet. _

 

He let out a breath, slowly and with control. Everything would be fine. They’d choose two recruits, get out of there, and then Rufus could see good examples of disciplined, focused recruits. He narrowed down his choices faster, trying to notice the subtle talents that were invisible to untrained eyes.

 

########

 

Rufus could feel Tseng’s eyes on him as he scanned the room, gaze drawn to the flashy antics of all the street kids who had stumbled in looking for a job. He could feel Tseng’s disapproval as he stared at one boy with slick black hair and a tattoo covering half his face swing nunchucks around yell loudly. He wasn’t exactly unskilled, and he looked like he was having fun… but Rufus knew Tseng wouldn’t approve. But what if Tseng was missing out on a more skilled recruit, just because they looked immature? There were some who would call it confidence, rather than immaturity.

 

He looked like he was having a  _ lot _ of fun…

 

A sudden movement in his peripheral vision made him look to a corner where a boy with flaming red hair was fighting another candidate in hand-to-hand combat. Rufus couldn’t tell much else about the boy other than that he had red hair, because he was  _ fast. _ He kicked and spun and twirled and punched and never stayed in one place, always moving, trying to catch his opponent off guard. Rufus could only barely follow his movements because of his former training in martial arts. Finally the redhead managed to feint to the left, then spin around counterclockwise and catch his opponent in the head with his heel,  _ hard. _ The other boy crumpled under the force of the kick and hit the mat headfirst. He was lucky the hand-to-hand fighters didn’t wear shoes, or that might have done some serious damage. The redheaded boy had finally slowed down relatively, bouncing back and forth on each foot loosely and grinning with his tongue out.

 

He  _ really _ looked like he was having fun.

 

He shook that thought away. There was no way he’d be able to get that fast, especially after quitting his practice the year before. There were some things that weren’t meant to be, and Rufus would never be physically strong. He put his efforts into more intellectual pursuits, and instead focused on his plan. Tseng was going to catch on if he wasn’t careful. He looked away from the flame-head and feigned equal interest in the other candidates.

 

Rufus couldn’t tell whom would be the best candidate, but he wanted Tseng to think he could, so he watched Tseng closely out of the corner of his eye. Rufus was very observant, and notice the tiny movements of Tseng’s head, and when Rufus could get a proper look without Tseng noticing he saw the corners of Tseng’s eyes twitch when he saw something he liked. He deduced that one particular candidate was getting most of Tseng’s attention, and he set his plan in motion.

 

He looked over at the large, silent young man with the shaved head. Rufus didn’t see what was so special about him; he was quiet and unremarkable, even if he was strong. He looked like he had a weak personality and would be trampled on in the real world. Nevertheless, Tseng approved of him, if Rufus was reading him correctly. “Tseng, can we talk to that one over there? The one with no hair.”

 

Tseng raised an eyebrow and looked down at him. “You approve of him?”

 

Rufus noticed the tiny tug at the corner of Tseng’s mouth. Yes, that was good! “Yes. I think he’s the most satisfactory out of everyone here, don't you agree?”

 

Tseng let out an amused breath. “Actually, he was one I was going to pick. You wish to speak with him?”

 

Rufus forced his face to remain passive, as his heart raced. He’d just read a  _ Turk _ , without being noticed. “Yes. Bring him here.” Rufus hoped Tseng took his preference of Tseng bringing the candidate to him instead of following along as unwillingness to distract the other candidates with his personage. He did look really important, after all.

 

Tseng bowed slightly. “Yes, sir. Wait here, please.” Tseng turned to go around the room, and weave through the other candidates as best he could to reach the young man.

 

Rufus calculated that he had less than thirty seconds before Tseng turned around and saw that he wasn’t in his spot. He’d have to work fast. Every candidate worth their salt would notice him running to the corner, and would be a witness. He had to be out of the room and down the hall in thirty seconds. He walked fast.

 

Luckily, he had timed everything right and the redhead hadn’t started another fight, so he didn’t have to waste time by having to interrupt him. He simply walked up to the boy and looked impressive before saying very determinedly, “If you do everything I say, right now, I can make sure you're accepted into the Turks.”

 

The boy raised an eyebrow at him beneath messy, sweaty locks. Upon closer inspection, Rufus noticed that he had two symmetrical, red tattoos on his cheekbones. “The Turks? That's the super secret special ops guys, right?”

 

Rufus couldn’t waste any time explaining. This would either work, or this guy wasn’t worth it. “Yes. You have five seconds to accept my proposal.” He was growing nervous. The other candidates around them were watching, probably jealous.

 

The boy’s eyes widened a little. “Wait, who are you? They told us to stay in here until--”

 

“Four. Three. Two--”

 

“Okay!” the boy cried, obviously not appreciating the apparent test. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Get me out of this building without my bodyguard noticing. Go, now.”

 

The boy’s mind raced for a moment, then he grabbed Rufus’  _ arm.  _ He grabbed his arm! “Come on, this way.”

 

Rufus was still reeling at the fact that  _ he was being dragged _ before he noticed that they’d actually gotten out without Tseng chasing after them. How had they done that? He could have sworn it took longer to get to the room they’d been in from the outside. How were they outside? He asked as much. “How did we get out here so fast?”

 

The boy raised an eyebrow at him, releasing his arm finally. “Back door? Duh. You probably came in the front. Anyway, is that it? Do I pass?” The boy didn’t seem convinced, like it was too good to be true.

 

Rufus blinked, and composed himself. “Not quite, no.”

 

He hadn’t expected it to work. He’d at least expected to get caught on the way out, and so he hadn’t thought of too many things he would request afterwards. And because of the nature of his plan, the details were more and more sketchy as it got further along. “Now get me down the street, out of sight.”

 

The boy looked at him, incredulous. “Dude, you’re wearing a fricking white suit, how am I gonna keep you out of sight?”

 

Rufus was impressed. Slightly. “Take me to a tailor, then!”

 

The boy still didn’t look convinced, and he patiently pinched the bridge of his nose in concentration. “Okay, is this a joke, or do you have an actual point to this? I’m not exactly showing off my skills, here.”

 

Rufus quickly thought back to the main objective of his plan. “Keep me away from my bodyguard as long as possible. And you’d better hurry, because he’s caught on by now.”

 

The redhead huffed, then grabbed his arm  _ again. _ Did he think that was okay, or something? Rufus brushed off the indignation as best he could, and imagined it was Tseng pulling him along, into an alley.

 

The boy turned to look behind them before they went around the corner, then rushed on. “Man, you really don’t give a guy any warning. A Turk is after us? I saw him with you.”

 

Rufus felt giddy at every new thing he learned about the boy. He was passing every test Rufus could think of. Tseng could stuff his prejudices about boys who looked like vandals. “Yes. He’s a very experienced one, at that. You’ll have to think of ways to outsmart him.”

 

The boy scoffed. “If he doesn’t know me, he won’t think like me. I can do anything as long as I keep you away from him, right? Including throwing your clothes out?”

 

Rufus blinked. Theoretically, he could just buy another suit, but Father probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Probably against his better judgment, that thought only made Rufus want to go along with it even more. He nodded. “Anything. Show me your skills, and I’ll be able to vouch for you.”

 

The boy made a lopsided face, almost like a pout but with narrowed eyes, still looking suspicious. “I’ll take you to a store, then we can get rid of your clothes. You have money?”

 

If was Rufus’ turn to scoff. “You don’t know who I am?”

 

The boy shook his head. “No, but obviously you’re filthy rich. Come on.” He motioned for Rufus to follow him down the alley and around a corner, twisting and turning down streets and back paths until Rufus couldn’t tell where he was. He was putting his life in the hands of a stranger, a  _ vandal. _ It was exciting. He could feel his insides clenching almost like he was terrified, but it felt  _ good _ . Was this what a thrill felt like? He wouldn’t know, because he’d never been allowed to  _ do _ anything that could be considered thrilling.

 

The boy finally pulled him into a large plaza with lots of different people scurrying about, too busy to notice the boy in the insanely out-of-place clothes. Rufus blinked. There were different stores lined up, with a very large one at the end of the plaza, taking up most of the area. “Where are we?” He asked, actually interested because he didn’t like knowing where he was, or what he was seeing.

 

The boy didn’t stop to take in the scenery, and led him towards the large store. “Somewhere you can find cheapass clothes that don’t make you look like ransom bait,” he said. “Well, that probably won’t be a problem up here, but down in the slums maybe.”

 

Rufus furrowed his brow as he followed behind, struggling to keep up. “That is where I was hoping to end up, at the end of this.”

 

The boy did a double take, his eyes wide and outraged. “You can’t be serious. How the hell am I supposed to keep you safe down there? I can’t fight big guys and protect you at the same time, I’ll get my ass handed to me.” He shook his head. “No way, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, yo.”

 

Rufus huffed. He wouldn’t give up, not until he exhausted everything. “If you want to be a Turk, you’ll face a lot more difficult enemies than slum-dwellers. Are you sure you want to join?”

 

They got to the doors, and the boy pushed one open for Rufus. “Yeah? But I figured I’d be doing the fast stuff, not the fighting-huge-guys-with-guns stuff.”

 

Rufus smirked at him as he walked inside. “If you do this, it will look good for you. You’ll be promoted faster.”

 

The other boy blew a puff of frustrated air out his nose. “Fine! But if I see anyone giving us the stinkeye, we’re outta there.”

 

Rufus grinned. He was learning more today than he ever would have in his entire life reading about the common people.

 

For example, he didn’t even know stores like this existed. It apparently had everything from clothes to electronics, to food and household supplies. The boy headed straight for the clothes (which were spread out over a large section and Rufus had a hard time figuring out where to go because there were suddenly women’s underclothes in his face and he blushed) and started rifling through to find something specific. Finally he pulled out a very plebian-looking T-Shirt with a heroic figure printed on the front, and held it up to Rufus’ torso. He nodded. “That should fit, right? It’s even better if it doesn’t fit.”

 

Rufus frowned. “Why would that be a good thing?”

 

The boy deadpanned at him. “Because normal boys don’t get nice clothes and have to get them from other people, no matter if they fit or not?”

 

Rufus blinked. Oh. “I see,” he said quickly, realizing just how stupid he probably sounded.

 

The boy sighed in exasperation. “Just, whatever, we’ve gotta hurry. The cameras see you, and your bodyguard will go straight to the security room to find us. Oh,  _ shit, _ and if you have your phone with you we gotta get rid of it.” He hurried along to the pants section and picked out something equally plebian, actually pushing Rufus into a dressing room to make sure those fit because having pants that didn’t fit meant he couldn’t run as fast.

 

After a rather harrowing ordeal with having to change in a  _ public dressing room, _ Rufus gathered his nerves and helped pay for everything. The boy had grabbed a pair of tennis shoes also, to replace Rufus’ loafers. Father was going to be very upset, supposing he pulled his head out of his ass to even notice that Rufus was missing, let alone notice he’d thrown out an entire outfit. After paying for the clothes, the boy rushed him back to the dressing room, where he ripped the tags off and put the clothes on, and left his old ones there along with his phone. Maybe someone less fortunate would find them and sell them. He shoved his wallet in the back pocket of the pauper-pants and hoped he wouldn’t lose it, because Reno sure didn’t have any money.

 

Finally, they were out the door again, and Rufus could finally put that horrifying experience behind him. He knew it was unfounded, but he feared that someone would burst in while he was changing, even though the boy was right outside the door. Did they have cameras in the dressing rooms?

 

He was literally shaken out of his reverie by the boy suddenly ruffling his hair. He pulled away and slapped at his hand. “What are you doing!?”

 

The boy glared at him. “Messing up your hair. Nobody your age does their hair like that.”

 

Rufus eyed the boy’s own mess of hair. It looked a bit greasy and dirty, actually, and Rufus grimaced. “I don’t have to do it like that, do I?”

 

The boy groaned. “No, just break up the gel, or something. You really have  _ no _ idea what you’re asking for, do you?”

 

Rufus actually pouted. “Well, I’m learning now, right!? It isn’t my fault I haven’t been exposed to these… things.” He was suddenly much less articulate than usual. It was probably good practice for acting like a normal boy, he thought to himself bitterly.

 

The boy finished messing up his hair (and Rufus had to fight the urge to blow it out of his face every five seconds because it was  _ annoying _ ) and led him on. Rufus wondered where Tseng was, and why he hadn’t found them yet. Was losing a Turk really that simple? They really had to step it up, if it was.

 

He wondered another thing. It had all worked out for this boy so far, but what if Rufus had been lying? That wasn’t exactly smart, but the boy had shown very little hesitation. He was curious, and asked as much. “Why did you trust me? You don’t even know who I am.”

 

The boy looked overconfident, almost. “First of all, you walked in with a Turk. And later you said he was your bodyguard. Second, you’re filthy rich. You’ve gotta be important. And I know how this shit works. Yeah, you could have been any regular jackoff with lots of money, hoping to fuck me over, but I know nobody gets anywhere without taking risks.” He looked Rufus dead in the eyes and smirked. “And I’m willing to do anything to get to the top. The Turks are where it’s at.”

 

Rufus stared. And then he stopped himself from staring, because the boy would notice and probably laugh at him. He looked at the ground in front of him, marveling in the knowledge he was gaining today. He hadn’t lied when he’d said he would make sure this boy got into the Turks, but now he was completely sure that he would be one of the best someday. When he’d first chosen Reno, he had only hoped that he had chosen wisely, and that he wouldn’t have to result to the dreaded ‘nepotism’ he so abhorred. Clearly that wouldn’t be a problem, and he’d have a slew of skills to praise when making his recommendation. Reno deserved this job.

 

He looked up into the boy’s strikingly bright blue eyes. What was that, cyan? He didn’t know all the shades of blue off the top of his head. “What’s your name?”

 

########

 

Rufus was gone.

 

Rufus. Was  _ gone. _

 

Tseng felt his chest tighten and he tensed, looking around the room. He wasn’t there. And he couldn’t have gone to the restroom, because Tseng would have noticed because the door was right next to him. Not only that, but Tseng had asked him to stay put. Had Rufus merely thought nothing of it, because they were inside a Shinra facility and he was supposedly safe to wander around? But why had he asked Tseng to go fetch this candidate so they could talk to him, only to disappear afterwards?

 

He had sent Tseng over to get the candidate. Tseng hadn’t offered to himself. Rufus had asked him to.

 

He’d asked so that Tseng would turn around and let Rufus out of his sight.

 

Rufus was gone.

 

He’d run away.

 

He’d run off somewhere because Tseng wasn’t looking. That had to have been it, because Tseng couldn’t bear to think of what else it could be. He cursed himself, and turned to the candidate he’d addressed before, and apologized, saying he’d be back later. He strode over to where he’d left Rufus, where various candidates were notably staring at him.

 

“Where did he go?” Tseng asked, trying not to sound too irritated.

 

A few pointed out the back door, and one said he went with a boy with red hair. Tseng thanked them, and rushed out the door.

 

He was supposed to be choosing Turk candidates, not chasing after his charge. He was in deep shit if he didn’t find the boy soon. He’d have to contact Veld if it took longer than five minutes. He was in deep shit and he didn’t want to think about the consequences.

 

########

 

Rufus was almost positive that Tseng would never find them now.

 

He didn’t know where he was, or that places like this even existed on the Plate. He had a rampant imagination when concerning the slums, but the Plate was supposed to be civilized, and full of well-off people like him. He’d never considered that there was something of a… a  _ middle _ class. There were people who looked comfortable, but just barely, as if they still had to worry about money. And even still he saw poorer people he’d never expect to see up on the Plate! He didn’t know they could afford it. Maybe they couldn’t, and they were falling further and further into debt, simply so they wouldn’t have to live in the slums and breathe clouds of exhaust from the Plate above. If so, then his wild imagination of the slums might not have been pure fantasy after all.

 

Rufus was used to the towering Shinra building and similar corporate buildings, offices, and lavish restaurants and strip malls that were in the center of the city. He knew that such places were lavish (because he wasn’t stupid and he knew he was very well off), but he’d never actually seen what other, less-fortunate areas of the city looked like. He didn’t even know they existed. All around him were various places that looked nice, but were obviously very cheaply-made and had poor labor practices, but seemed to carry an air of “We know you’re poor, but you can still look like you’re not!”.

 

He was learning so much. Did Father even know about this? He doubted it. Rufus had been inside a game arcade, and a fast food place (the food looked disgusting but tasted  _ amazing _ ), and the boy had suggested a movie but then retracted it, saying they’d be stuck in one place for too long (which was a bummer), and then Rufus had requested they go down to the slums. The boy wasn’t happy about it, but they were on their way towards the train station, where they’d go down, look around for a bit, then come right back up.

 

The boy’s name was Reno. He was fourteen and he’d chosen to join Shinra instead of being thrown in jail for larceny.  _ And _ he hadn’t cared one bit when Rufus had told him he was the son of the president. The title didn’t mean any more to him than if Rufus had been some other rich boy with a distant point of view. The fact that he wasn’t contemptuous of Rufus was a big plus, however. He’d expected a poorer boy to be jealous or hateful, but Reno didn’t care. How much money or stuff other people had didn’t concern the boy; all he cared about was himself, in an admirable sort of way. Rufus admired him for not giving a shit.

 

Reno cursed a lot. It was rubbing off on Rufus in his thoughts, already.

 

“So then this motherfucker asks me if my daddy’s around, like I'm not old enough to do business with him? So I tell him ‘Nah, he’s off doin’ your mom,’ an’ he just gets  _ all _ kinds of pissed an’ tries to grab me, right? And that’s never good, kids gettin’ grabbed. So all us kids look out for each other, yeah? This guy's goin’ after me, and some kid just barrels into him from the side, he didn’t even see it comin’. An’ before he could pull a knife or something and gut us, I grabbed a toilet seat and hit him in the head. Knocked him out cold.”

 

Rufus stared with incredulity at the unlikely story. “Where did you get a toilet seat?”

 

“It was just sittin’ there, in a pile of garbage bags! That shit’s normal. So yeah, that guy got knocked out by a poop-seat.” He dissolved into laughter towards the end of the sentence. Rufus noticed that he liked to laugh at his own jokes.

 

He chuckled, though. Getting knocked out by something someone had used to evacuate their bowels was pretty funny.

 

Reno wiped his eyes, getting back into his sort-of serious mood. “So, is there a time limit, or are we actually waiting for your bodyguard to find us? I don’t want him to think I kidnapped you, and get beat up. Getting beat up sucks.”

 

Rufus chewed on the inside of his cheek. Tseng was taking much too long to find him. He’d have to give him a private report, later, so that he could improve. “After looking around Sector 7 for a little while, we’ll go back to Shinra. They’ll see that you haven’t harmed me, and I’ll give them my endorsement of you.” He frowned, folding his arms. “I really expected Tseng to find us. Either he isn’t as good as he thinks he is, or you’re just better. This was a learning experience for him as well as me.”

 

Reno grinned mischievously. “The Turks had better be ready for me, ‘cause I don’t hold back. I’m goin’ for the top!”

 

Rufus smiled, amused. “I know they have one Turk already who is a lot like you. She’s been there for as long as I can remember, however. You have a lot of competition.”

 

Reno scoffed and waved him off. “Doesn’t matter. Anyone in my way is gonna eat my dust, doesn’t matter who they are.” He looked up and nodded towards something off in the distance. “There it is, the Sector 7 station, gateway to the slums. You guys should make another train that goes down there; it would make it easier for people who work up here to get here, you know? So they don’t gotta all cram onto one train. The morning train is a hellhole.”

 

Rufus frowned. “I don’t think Father thinks that’s important. The Urban Development director has proposed various plans like that and he’s been shot down every time. Nobody cares about that stuff.”

 

Reno sighed, and stopped at the train platform, taking a look at the schedule. “Yeah, I figured. But you said you’re gonna be V-P soon, yeah?”

 

Rufus huffed, folding his arms. “Eventually. And when I am, there are going to be some changes. The way Father runs the company is stupid.”

 

Reno turned to Rufus and grinned, sticking his tongue out a little. “Then it’s a good thing I know you now, huh? You can hook me up.” When Rufus gave him a nasty glare, he added “Kidding, kidding! All I want is not to die, and maybe have a nice crib, you know? I don’t want no damn handouts like some corporate kiss-ass.”

 

Rufus huffed again. “Good. When does the next train leave?”

 

Reno kicked a pebble with his ratty sneaker and it shot out onto the train tracks with a light  _ ping _ . “Looks like another fifteen minutes, or something. Wanna play Never Have I Ever until then?”

 

Rufus blinked. “What’s that?” He had a feeling he was about to look stupid again.

 

Reno chuckled. “Oh man, that’s one thing you can say. You’re gonna be great at this game.”

 

########

 

Rufus had always been rather well-behaved. When he disagreed with something, he did so in a way that was still within the bounds of acceptable behavior, albeit sometimes being disrespectful. Even though lately he’d grown impatient and impulsive, Tseng had never expected him to act the way he had that morning.

 

Tseng was actually angry with the boy.

 

He was at least relieved to see that Rufus was not actually in danger, and that he had willingly gone with the redheaded boy to a department store and exchanged his clothes for cheap street clothes. It had been simple to find them by tracking Rufus’ phone, but he lost their trail after realizing Rufus had left it behind and the two boys went off into a less-monitored area of the city.

 

He’d had to enlist Knife’s help for this.

 

He’d called Veld, deathly embarrassed at his own failure, and explained the situation. Veld didn’t seem angry, though it was impossible to tell on the phone, and Tseng dreaded giving his full report in person later. Rufus was his responsibility, and he’d needed to call for backup to find him. He was supposed to be at the Academy, choosing Turk recruits, and he was chasing after his runaway charge. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hide like a hermit for the rest of his life. That way, nobody would find him and think him a pathetic excuse for a Turk.

 

Luckily, Knife was thrilled at the sudden mission opportunity. She helped him without complaint or judgment, and Tseng silently thanked her a thousand times over. Without her, it would have been nearly impossible to stay calm while running through the streets looking for two stupid kids. He’d sent her to monitor the train station that ran to the slums while he searched, so they wouldn’t be able to escape down there without them noticing.

 

Finally, he received that magical call.

 

_ “Sir,”  _ Knife said in her small, skittish voice,  _ “I’ve located them. Should I engage?” _

 

Tseng’s heart lept. Finally, this wild goose chase was over. “No, not yet. Wait for me to get there and back you up. We don’t want one of them escaping.” He thought for a moment, and decided he’d reward her for her flawless performance. “Which one would you like to handle?”

 

There was no hesitation.  _ “The redhead boy, sir. I’d be much too uncomfortable with the son of the president. The other boy looks to be no trouble.” _

 

Tseng nodded to himself. He supposed that was fair. “Alright, you can handle him, and I’ll get the president’s son. If he tries to run, incapacitate him.”

 

_ “Understood, sir. I’ll keep both eyes on them until you get here.” _

 

“Good. Tseng out.” He hung up and hurried over to the station. Rufus was interested in seeing the common people? He’d get to see what happened when they disobeyed. He was prepared for him not to like it. He’d probably curse and insult Tseng, again. Tseng would endure anything to keep him safe, and away from idiot wretches like that boy. Hopefully Rufus would learn from this, and forget his romanticised views of the common man. They were just as bad as all the corrupt politicians in the world, and he’d see it soon enough.

 

########

 

“... I can’t think of anything else.”

 

Rufus stared at Reno with disbelief. “You’ve only said like four things!”

 

Reno nodded. “Yeah, and I can’t think of anything else I haven’t done. I’ve done a lot of shit.”

 

Rufus huffed. “Alright, then start naming off things you’ve done!”

 

Reno rolled his eyes. “You don’t wanna know. Your innocent head will explode.”

 

“I can assure you that my  _ innocent head _ can adapt to new knowledge,” Rufus countered, with a challenging glare.

 

“Alright. I’ve had sex.”

 

Rufus’ eyes shot open and he choked a little on his own spit,  _ somehow.  _ “You’re fourteen!”

 

Reno shrugged. “Shit happens.”

 

Rufus covered his face with his hands, subconsciously wanting to hide. Why would a fourteen-year-old even be  _ interested _ in that!? Then he pulled them away, outraged and embarrassed. “What are they teaching you in school!?”

 

Reno raised an eyebrow in that condescending manner that had been driving Rufus absolutely  _ crazy _ for the last few hours. “You think we all go to school?”

 

Rufus blinked. “Um. Why wouldn’t you?”

 

Reno only stared at him. “That shit’s expensive, yo. I can only read because my friend made me. He said stupid people don’t survive very well.”

 

Rufus’ mind reeled at this revelation. Slums kids didn’t even go to school? Well, not all of them, for sure. Maybe a few of them could, but not the majority. That was unacceptable, and something he’d never considered before. Everyone deserved to be educated! That way they could learn that sex leads to  _ babies _ and babies were horrible and expensive to take care of and  _ oh gods that‘s why slums people were stuck in the slums.  _ They weren’t properly educated and they had babies too young and they didn’t find jobs that paid enough for them to move to a better area.

 

Rufus suddenly felt like he didn’t know  _ anything. _ He would have to research this in more detail later, and look in different places that he wouldn’t normally search in.

 

Reno waved his hand in front of Rufus’ face and he shook himself out of his thoughts suddenly. “What?”

 

Reno smirked. “I was right, your mind exploded.”

 

Rufus felt his face get hot again, and pouted angrily. “It did not, and I’m fine now! So wipe that haughty grin off your face and look for the train.”

 

“There’s only one train, we can’t miss it.”

 

“But if we do, we have to wait another thirty minutes!”

 

“Both of you freeze!”

 

Reno’s head jerked in the direction of the voice, and Rufus quickly followed suit. The sparse crowd of people around them quickly moved out of the way, and the boys were met with a serious-looking woman in the distinctive uniform of the Turks. She had knives in her hands.

 

Rufus knew they were doomed if he didn't explain. “It's fine, I'm not in danger--”

 

“Get down on your hands and knees immediately!” the woman yelled, ignoring him. “If you try to run, you’ll regret it.”

 

Rufus didn't think she meant him, since he was the supposed ‘victim’. He turned to Reno, actually feeling slightly worried. Where was Tseng? Had he called in the other Turks!?

 

Reno looked nervous, like me might actually run, but he decided against running away from a lady with throwing knives. He put his hands up and got down on his knees. “Dude, you gonna explain?” he asked urgently.

 

Rufus scrambled to find words. The few hours he’d spent with this lower life-form had actually impeded his ability to be coherent. “Don’t hurt him, I asked him to do this!”

 

And suddenly there was a firm hand around his bicep, pulling him away. He looked up to see a very stern-faced Tseng, and his stomach dropped. Rufus had never seen him like that. Focused, he had seen. But Tseng looked… angry. And his hand was like a vice around his arm and it hurt a little but he wasn’t about to say anything about that.

 

Crap. He was in trouble.

 

“Apprehend him and take him in,” Tseng said without inflection. “I’ll meet you at Shinra.”

 

“Sir!” the woman affirmed, then closed in on poor Reno. She grabbed him and zip-tied his hands behind his back, making him cry out in pain.

 

Rufus winced. “Don’t hurt him, he only did what I told him to! He’s my friend!”

 

_ He’s my friend, _ he thought, his chest clenching. Was that true? It had to be, because Rufus was actually scared for Reno’s wellbeing. He didn’t want anything to happen to the boy. Reno was nice. He was funny. Rufus wanted to be around him more.  _ He didn’t want anything to happen to him. _

 

He suddenly thought that maybe he had made a mistake, and he could have gone about this another way.

 

Tseng pulled him away, and spoke into his phone. “Bring it around the corner, I’ll be right there. Tseng out.” He put his phone away and didn’t look down at Rufus.

 

Rufus looked back to where the woman Turk was dragging Reno away, probably towards a similar transport. Rufus’ actions had forced Tseng to call in backup,  _ and _ request transportation for them. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d only thought Tseng would find them and scold him. It wasn’t that serious, why was he making such a big deal out of this!? “Tseng, please, I’ll handle everything, don’t hurt him!”

 

“Do you have any idea how many people were looking for you?” Tseng said in his usual calm tone, but somehow with restrained fury behind it.

 

Rufus frowned deeply. “I didn't ask them to look for me.” He really didn’t. Tseng had overreacted. He wasn’t supposed to call other people, he was supposed to find Rufus by himself! He felt his fear ebbing away, replaced by betrayal and indignation.

 

Tseng left that train of thought behind, probably realizing it was pointless to argue. “You are the president's son. You're important. There are plenty of people who would use that against your father.”

 

Fury lanced through Rufus’ chest at the mention of his father, and he couldn’t hold it back. “Fuck my father.”

 

Tseng went on, unaffected by Rufus’ swearing. “And that's if they were  _ smart _ . If they didn't care for ransom, they'd kill you out of spite for your father. Do you understand? I can't protect you if you deliberately sabotage my efforts!” He finally looked down, his eyes piercing and full of restrained anger.

 

Rufus looked straight into them for a few seconds, then looked away. He told himself he could have held the gaze longer, but doing so would be spiteful at best and he was too angry to care.

 

They were silent the rest of the way to the car. Tseng opened the door for him as usual, which Rufus thought was stupid. He thought everything was stupid. Tseng was still helping him even though he was angry. If it were the other way around, Rufus would have made him open his own damn door. Tseng made his way around the car and got into the seat next to his, and the driver took off.

 

Then Tseng broke the silence. “I’m assuming you don’t want your father to see you like this, so we’re headed back to the estate where you can fix your appearance.”

 

“I don’t care what my father thinks,” Rufus said. He  _ wanted _ Father to be angry. There was no escaping it, so why not do everything possible to piss him off?

 

Tseng frowned, looking into the seat into front of him with his arms crossed in front of him. “You look ridiculous, sir. I’m only thinking of how you’ll be treated if you’re seen like that.”

 

He looked like he was starting to cool down. That only made Rufus more angry, but not at him. Tseng was cool about  _ everything. _ He never raised his voice, and he never let his emotions control him. Rufus was being a stupid kid, getting angry at him for doing his job. Tseng still shouldn’t have overreacted and called everyone, though.

 

“... Fine,” he said, begrudgingly. “I’ll change.” He looked over to Tseng with a serious expression. “I promise, I wasn’t in trouble. I told him that if he did everything I asked, that I would get him a place in the Turks.”

 

Tseng frowned deeper at that, and finally looked over again. “It isn’t up to you. Why would you promise that?”

 

Rufus folded his arms defensively. “I knew I could convince you! I told him to outsmart you, and he did. For three hours! That’s worth having him in the Turks, if anything is.”

 

Tseng frowned  _ even deeper. _ “That will depend on my analysis. I don’t appreciate you going behind my back like this. Don’t do it again, sir.”

 

Rufus pouted, and looked away. Tseng wouldn’t have given Reno a second look without seeing his skills in the field. But he didn’t want to argue about it anymore right then. He’d argue later, for sure. Reno deserved that position.

 

They made it back to the Shinra estate and Tseng escorted him up to the house. He was needed at Shinra, so Rufus would stay there and change while Tseng dealt with the situation. Rufus almost objected, but realized it was pointless by Tseng’s definitive, clipped toned. Rufus would have his chance to argue later, and this time his words wouldn’t fail him. Reno would get that position, legitimately, and everything would be fine. Rufus will have finally won a battle against Father. He waited impatiently, changing into another one of his suits and fixing his hair to its usual impeccable style. He was secretly glad to have it out of his face, again.

 

########

 

Tseng had received his first interrogation assignment.

 

That was his punishment for the debacle he caused that morning. Thankfully, the boy was young and Tseng wasn’t ordered to do anything drastic like he knew was usual with other interrogations. He’d seen Goran come out of a room with blood on his hands and shirt, once, only shrugging as if it were normal for him. Tseng hadn’t needed to cause that much damage to get the answers he needed.

 

The boy went by ‘Reno’, as was printed on his application the Shinra Academy. Tseng used some slight persuasion to make sure that was his real name, and that was what people knew him by, to make documenting his past easier. He’d enrolled after being arrested for petty larceny, and had no prior connections with Shinra Corporation. His mother was deceased, his father was missing, and Reno had been living by himself on the streets of Sector 6 for three years, his only connections being with common street thugs. He hadn’t held anything back, telling Tseng everything he wanted to know. It wasn’t out of fear, but because Reno was actually innocent. He had quite the mouth on him, but he was innocent.

 

Tseng only felt a little badly for him. He should have had the sense not to accept Rufus’ offer. He had thought he would get ahead by doing something risky, and he paid the consequences in the form of a messed up face. Tseng hadn’t broken anything, only made it painful to try to speak or move his face in general. He’d heal fine, and Tseng had his answers.

 

Tseng had no idea what would be done with him, however. Because of this debacle, he most likely would be blacklisted from any future job opportunities at Shinra, or any of its affiliates. The boy’s life wouldn’t get any easier. He would probably end up in a prison-run factory, because he would have no other options.

 

Tseng set his jaw. The day was turning out to be one hell of a mess. All he wanted was to go home and meditate. But the job wasn’t done. He still had to escort Rufus back to the building, and he had a mountain of paperwork to get through. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, fixed his loose tie, and redid his ponytail because he’d been running around for three hours and it had started to fall out of its elastic fastening. He’d been looking for  _ years _ for an elastic that stayed in place, but had been unsuccessful. He was forced to deal with sub-par hair elastics. How annoying.

 

He spent his time ranting internally about hair elastics until he fetched Rufus from the mansion, and took him back to Shinra. Rufus had calmed himself considerably, and Tseng was glad for that. He’d acted like a petulant child, and hopefully he realized how ridiculous he’d looked in those street clothes.

 

The president sat in silence for once, his hands steepled in front of him, while his son stood impatiently in front of his desk with his arms folded in defiance. Rufus was waiting for the president to speak first, so that he could counter with his argument. Tseng already saw how terribly this was going to turn out.

 

The president finally lowered his hands to the desk and looked directly to his son, eyes hardened and unforgiving. “Do you have any idea how stupid your actions were today?”

 

Rufus rolled his eyes, immediately causing to president to snap at him. “Don’t roll your eyes, look at me! You could have been killed, today!”

 

Rufus pushed a frustrated huff through his nostrils, his arms still folded. “Everything I did was carefully calculated and controlled. I wasn’t in danger.”

 

“Did you stop to think that this boy could have just taken you away into danger?” The president asked, outraged. “You trusted him, with your  _ life, _ without any prior knowledge of him. It was stupid! What possessed you to do this!?”

 

“The benefits outweighed the small risk! I’m confident that I could have handled a  _ boy--” _

 

“You could have handled him!? He was a street thug, he could have smeared you across the pavement. Even if you had continued your martial arts training, nothing can prepare you for a real fight, with someone who wants to do you harm. You’ve proven you’re just a stupid boy, yet again. You didn’t even take your pet with you! What do you have it for!?”

 

Rufus visibly bristled under the onslaught. Tseng felt bad for him, but only a little. He needed to hear this, to realize that what he had done was reckless and dangerous. Rufus spoke through gritted teeth, “Dark Nation isn’t fully trained, yet, and would simply get in the way. I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t make any decisions until I knew that I would be safe!”

 

“You could not have know that it would be safe,” the president said, definitively. “You assumed that because you had something the boy wanted, that he would protect you. Not only did you assume this would keep you safe from  _ him, _ but you didn’t think about the other thugs who could have flattened him in a second, leaving you defenseless.”

 

“There aren't any thugs like that on the Plate, though--”

 

“You only think there aren't!” the president interrupted. “You think it's just sunshine and daisies up here, and all the bad things stay down in the slums! I can't believe I have to tell you this, but it's a free city and I can't keep the bad people down there. They can do whatever they want, and that is why you  _ cannot _ go anywhere alone!”

 

“I learned that today, and I'm sorry!” Rufus yelled, his face red with anger and indignation.

 

He had actually… apologized? Tseng forced himself not to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

 

The president intertwined his fingers in front of him, seemingly calming himself. “You have been insubordinate countless times before. Being sorry does not change what you did, and I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson, yet. You don’t realize what consequences could have resulted from this.”

 

Rufus huffed. “What else do I have to know!? I’ve admitted my mistake, so if you only want to  _ punish _ me, then call it a punishment.” He folded his arms again, embarrassed and humiliated.

 

The president pressed buttons for an extension on his desk phone, and put it on speaker. Veld’s voice sounded through the speaker, to Tseng’s surprise. Apparently the president wanted to talk directly to the director, since he hadn’t bothered with Tseng. But he was used to that. The president rarely dealt with the lower Turks. “Veld, have your subordinates gained all the information they could from the perpetrator?” he asked, without emotion.

 

_ “Yes, Mr. President,” _ Veld affirmed.

 

The president nodded to himself, then answered, “I want you to put him on screen, so that I can see.” Then he pressed a button, a compartment opening up in his desk and revealing a dual-sided screen used for both watching and showing the person on the other side of the desk. Tseng frowned to himself. The president was going to show his handiwork to the boy. Tseng couldn’t figure out what purpose that had other than to torture his son further, and he silently disapproved.

 

Rufus had immediately tensed once the president suggested that the Turks had ‘gotten information’ out of Reno, as he probably knew what that entailed. He looked up at Tseng with an outraged frown, then looked back at the screen. Tseng felt a little guilty, but it was his job. He hadn’t hurt Reno that badly, and Rufus would have to understand that it was necessary.

 

The screen winked on, and portrayed a purposefully bland-looking room in the Turk headquarters (it was just another precaution the Turks had taken to keep their headquarters undiscovered). Then immediately, Veld entered the screen, followed by Knife dragging Reno with her and throwing him down to his knees at her feet. Rufus gasped, unable to look away.

 

It only  _ looked _ terrible. Reno’s face had swelled up worse than when Tseng had left him, but it wasn’t anything a few Cures couldn’t fix. The blood that had dripped from his nose and mouth was dried and flaky, and one eye was swollen shut and turning an ugly purple color. To his credit, he merely knelt there quietly and didn’t make any indication that he was in a lot of pain. He hadn’t reacted with much during the interrogation, either, only anger at being hit because he was innocent. Tseng respected him for that, despite his foul mouth.

 

Rufus, however, was appalled. Just a couple hours before, this boy had been by his side unharmed. Tseng couldn’t fault him for that; Rufus hadn’t ever experienced anything like this, before. Tseng would prefer that he  _ didn’t, _ but it wasn’t his decision. Rufus opened his mouth in outrage. “I told you, he didn’t do anything wrong! Why did you order him to be hurt!?”

 

The president’s gaze was hard and unflinching from behind the screen. “Because you need to realize that your actions have consequences. This could have been you, or your bodyguard here.” He nodded at Tseng, and Tseng forced himself not to shift uncomfortably. “Fortunately, we were able to catch you in time, and take your kidnapper into custody and interrogate him.”

 

“For the last time, he didn’t kidnap me!” Rufus cried. “He did everything I told him to, perfectly! I was only trying to help show off his skills, so that he would have a place in the Turks!”

 

The president waved him off, as usual. Tseng didn’t look, but he could feel Rufus fuming from beside him. “What you were trying to do is not important. You roped this boy into doing things that weren’t allowed. I am doing this to show you that your actions can get people killed.” He lowered his gaze to the screen in front of him. “Veld, take him to the execution chamber.”

 

_ “What!?” _ came a distorted teenage voice through the desk speaker. Reno’s good eye shot open in genuine shock and fear.  _ “I told you everything, what the fuck!?” _

 

Rufus would have yelled too, but Reno beat him to it. He balled his fists and cut in immediately. “You can’t be serious! He’s only a kid, Father!”

 

The president ignored both the yelling boys, and nodded at the screen. Veld nodded back to him onscreen and started to pull Reno away, who was shocked and terrified and yanking at his bonds that held his hands behind him. As he was pulled out of the room, Rufus heard him yell,  _ “Come on, if I’d known you were gonna be such assholes I wouldn’t have done it!” _ Then the screen shut off.

 

Rufus was stunned, but the reality of the situation knocked him into action. “Father, you can’t! He didn’t do anything, you’re punishing him for nothing!”

 

The president resumed his unforgiving hard gaze. “What he did or didn’t do is irrelevant. This is a lesson you have to learn, that your actions have consequences.”

 

“Then punish me instead!” Rufus pleaded. “Killing Reno won’t solve anything, just punish me instead!”

 

Tseng felt his chest clench like it always did when Rufus was upset. He shouldn’t have expected everything to turn out alright. He felt that Rufus needed to learn a lesson, but this was too much. And killing a boy? Tseng could never condone such a thing. Had the president really hardened his heart such that he didn’t think twice about such things? Tseng stood there, looking calm as usual, while his conscience inside screamed. He’d learned to hide it perfectly, when he knew it would be punished.

 

The president squinted. “The boy already knows too much about you. It would be foolish to let him roam freely again.”

 

“Then draft him into the army, or something!” Rufus pleaded again, desperately trying to convince his father this  _ one time. _ “Or the Turks, because he’s that good! If you give him a job, he won’t give it up just to hurt me. He doesn’t have anything else, he needs this job!” Rufus breathed hard, like he was barely holding back tears. He never cried anymore, no matter how upset he got.

 

The president paused as if considering his pleading son’s words, but didn't move to stop his order. Rufus pleaded again, “Please, you have to hurry and tell Veld to stop or he’ll kill Reno!” He knew that Veld never questioned his orders, and was deathly efficient. Tseng would never understand how the man dealt with these merciless orders.

 

Finally, the president dialed the same extension that led to Veld’s phone. “Veld, don’t execute the boy. Throw him back in his cell until I decide what to do with him.”

 

There was a soft affirmative on the other end, and the president hung up again. Tseng noticed that Rufus visibly relaxed, a great pressure being lifted from his shoulders. The president looked up at him again, with an even harder expression than before. “I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because I don't like hurting children. You need to prove to me that you understand what you did today was wrong.”

 

“I understand, Father,” was Rufus’ strained reply.

 

“Good,” the president said with finality. “I expect full cooperation with your bodyguard from now on. He’ll take you back to the estate, where you'll spend the rest of the day in your room. Is that clear?”

 

“Yes, Father,” came the begrudging reply.

 

“Good. And Turk,” the president glared at Tseng, suddenly. Tseng forced himself not to swallow nervously. “If you ever lose my son like that again, there will be consequences for you, as well.”

 

Rufus reared on his father again, and Tseng couldn’t stop him even though he  _ knew _ it was a foolish move. “It isn’t Tseng’s fault, don’t punish him either!”

 

“Bite your tongue, boy, or did you forget  _ everything _ I just said!?” the president barked.

 

Rufus shrunk back, more out of concession than fear. He knew he couldn’t win again. Tseng tried to telepathically tell Rufus to quit while he was ahead and  _ get out of there. _

 

“Now. Both of you get out. Back to the estate.”

 

“Yes sir,” Tseng said without inflection. Inflection was bad. Inflection suggested that he felt things and Turks weren't allowed to do that. Ugh. Tseng felt sick again.

 

Rufus quickly turned on his heel and headed out down the stairs, determined to be as far away from his father as possible. Tseng followed behind, burying his feelings deep where they wouldn’t cause problems. He had to do his job flawlessly, for Rufus’ sake and the sake of his fellow Turks. He couldn’t afford to make them look bad.

 

Rufus strode across the floor, not looking behind him for anything, including to see if Tseng was still behind him, and Tseng actually had to use longer strides to keep up. Tseng focused only on keeping Rufus in his sights and burying his feelings until he realized that Rufus wasn’t headed for the elevator, but the stairway. He thought that was odd, but didn’t say anything.

 

Rufus entered the executive stairway, and Tseng followed him down half a flight before he stopped and reared around with a furious glare. “I can’t believe you. You interrogated him!”

 

Tseng almost flinched, but he kept his cool since he’d expected something like this to happen. He stepped down a few more steps, putting his left foot on the step lower than Rufus’ so that he wouldn’t be looking down so far at the boy. “I did as I was ordered to by your father, sir.”

 

Rufus’ nostrils flared. “I told you not to hurt him! And what did you immediately do!?”

 

Tseng was silent, having nothing to say to that because he’d already made his argument. He’d had to interrogate the boy. There was no questioning orders, not to mention the fact that Reno could have meant Rufus harm. He kept his expression calm in the face of Rufus’ fury.

 

Rufus went on. “I told you that I went on my own, and that I would handle it, but you had to go and interrogate him even though you knew he was innocent. He’s just a stupid slums kid, who did you think he was, a spy!?”

 

Tseng stayed quiet, knowing that Rufus was merely upset that someone had gotten hurt. At first glance, the boy hadn’t looked like a spy, but as a Turk Tseng had made sure he wasn’t.

 

Rufus blew a puff of hot air through his nostrils and his fists balled at his sides. “Well? Say something!”

 

Tseng was determined to keep his voice even. Rufus was only twelve. And didn’t understand. “I did just as I was ordered--”

 

“Fuck your orders, you  _ wanted _ to hurt him!” Rufus yelled. “Even though I told you he was my friend, you hurt him!”

 

“Sir, you knew him for three hours, he could have been anyone!” Tseng yelled back, unable to hold it inside any longer.

 

Rufus actually rocked back on his heels at that, his eyes widened in surprise.

 

Tseng was surprised himself. He hadn’t intended to raise his voice, but Rufus needed to know how serious this was. At least the shock had gotten Rufus to listen to him. He quickly composed himself again, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh. “The results of the interrogation were satisfactory. I don’t think he was trying to hurt you.”

 

Rufus was still belligerent, but at least he was quiet. “Fantastic. You learned absolutely nothing, then, because I already told you. How did you know he wasn’t a spy when he walked in to join the Turks?” he argued.

 

“He would have been found out during the examination,” Tseng answered, patiently. “That’s what it was for, to weed out any potential threats to the company.”

 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Rufus said, defiantly.

 

Tseng’s insides clenched at Rufus’ swearing. He didn’t mean anything by using that scathing tone. “Sir, if he had hurt you…”

 

“What?” Rufus snapped. “You keep saying that, what would happen?”

 

Tseng was stunned into silence. It was like Rufus only wanted him to speak so that he could take out his frustration on Tseng. It was understandable, but hurtful.

 

Rufus stared at him accusingly, his fury barely contained. “You know what would happen? If I _died?”_ Rufus’ eyes suddenly shifted from wanting to tear Tseng apart to one that used his fury to mask hurt and betrayal. “Father would get married again, and have another son that he only needs to further on his stupid legacy. Nobody would _care_.”

 

Tseng stood there with his mouth hanging open a fraction, in utter shock. Rufus had obvious problems with his father that resulted from their opposing views, but Rufus had never expressed symptoms of his neglect. Other than being quiet and withdrawn when he was younger, Rufus had adapted to his lack of fatherly attention easily and in a healthy, constructive way. Tseng could never have suspected that Rufus thought so badly of his father. Rufus’ self-worth wasn’t necessarily low, but it was clear what he believed his father thought of him.

 

And Tseng as well. Rufus had said very clearly that ‘nobody would care’. Tseng couldn’t believe his ears, and he couldn’t think of anything to say to that. It was untrue, but Rufus wouldn’t believe that at that moment.

 

Rufus’ gaze had dropped to the floor., and he stood breathing shakily with his fists still balled at his sides. “I know that I don’t have any real control over this,” he said finally, his fury waning. Then he looked back up with one final, withering glare. “But you’d  _ better _ let him in.”

 

Tseng could almost feel himself looking at this situation as if he were a different person, as if this weren’t happening to him. Everything about that day had been wrong. Everything came out of  _ nowhere, _ and there was no way he could have prepared for it. It couldn’t have been real, but it was. Rufus had just effectively threatened him. With what consequence, Tseng never wanted to find out.

 

He was strongly against hiring the redheaded boy, for so many reasons. But for Rufus’ sake, he considered it. Reno clearly wasn’t a danger, so it wouldn’t hurt to evaluate him again.

 

Rufus finally dropped his gaze. “That’s all I wanted. Take me back, now.” He turned and headed back down the stairs. Tseng figured he’d only headed into the stairwell to give them privacy while they argued. Tseng was thankful they wouldn’t meet anyone for at least another ten flights.

 

########

 

Tseng had pulled through for him. He hadn’t really expected it, but he had. Rufus would remember this.

 

It was mean of him to threaten Tseng, he knew. He hadn’t even thought of what he would do if Tseng  _ hadn’t _ done as he’d demanded. He’d just blurted it out, out of emotion.

 

Everything he’d done was stupid, that day.

 

He vowed to do better. All he had to do was plan for Father to disapprove of everything he ever did, and then find some way to counter it. Somehow. Father couldn’t disapprove of  _ everything, _ could he? Rufus would eventually find a counter that Father would approve of, and then he could study that pattern and learn how to do what Father approved of. It was that simple. He just had to keep studying and dealing with the patronizing lectures and dismissals. He would find it eventually.

 

Tseng told him immediately when Reno was made a Turk. Rufus thanked him, silently wondering how Tseng had convinced Veld, and if he’d done it solely to please Rufus. If he didn’t see Reno’s potential as a Turk, then he was stupid and closed-minded. But if he did, then… well. Rufus could forgive him. But he wouldn’t know unless he asked Tseng, and that would mean admitting that he was curious, and that was unacceptable. He ignored his curiosity, and went to Floor 69 to talk to Reno himself.

 

He’d have to wait for Reno to return from wherever he was, and Veld wasn’t happy that Rufus was asking to talk to him. Whatever. Veld needed to calm down. It wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed on that floor. He waited in the lounge, hoping that none of the other Turks went by and bugged him.

 

Finally Reno stepped out of the elevator, his hands in his pockets and his uniform jacket hanging open and his shirt untucked, his red hair wild and untamed as the moment Rufus had met him the day before. His face looked a better than it had on the screen before, but Rufus felt his breath hitch a little in spite of it. Reno’s eye was still purple, but he could open it halfway and the swelling on the rest of his face was gone. It really wasn’t as bad as it had looked, Rufus supposed. Tseng hadn’t done much damage. Rufus had been hard on him.

 

Rufus vowed to work on controlling his emotions and not looking like an idiot. He nodded to Reno in acknowledgement. “You look better. I’m glad.”

 

Reno snorted. “You should see the other guy.”

 

Rufus frowned. “Tseng looks fine.”

 

Reno sighed. “It was a joke, yo.”

 

Rufus shook his head to banish his uncomfortable feeling of always sounding stupid around Reno. “I see… Well. You’re a Turk, now? Everything was taken care of?”

 

Reno huffed amusedly. “Yeah, I guess. One minute the bossman was taking me to the gas chamber, and the next he was pulling me out of my cell saying I was hired. I guess you finally pulled through for me.”

 

Rufus frowned in guilt. “I was mistaken in my expectation of how my father would react. I was too confident, and I should have merely advocated for you while we were at the Academy. I’m sorry.”

 

Reno scoffed. “Hey man, I’m not complaining. I got a job.” 

 

He still seemed uncomfortable, however, the way he looked at the floor and scuffed his sneaker against the linoleum. Rufus felt his insides clench at the idea that Reno wouldn’t trust him anymore. He would say anything, no matter how humbling it was, so that Reno would trust him again. He took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. “I wanted to tell you that I appreciate what you did. And how well you took almost being murdered by my father.”

 

Reno blew a puff of hot air through his nose, as if in disapproval. But then he shrugged. “It’s whatever.” He looked up again, still wary. “You gonna be able to keep him off me in the future? Because I really gotta go if you can't. I know I’m hired, but that shit doesn’t matter here. Your dad wants me gone, I’m gone.”

  
Rufus nodded in acknowledgement. “I can ensure your safety in the future, in exchange for your loyalty.”

  
Reno raised an eyebrow, flipping a lock of unruly hair out of his face. “Okay? I guess. I mean I thought I was working for you guys anyway.”

  
“It means you're my man, no matter what happens,” Rufus said evenly.

  
Reno frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “Okay... Don't make it weird, man.”

  
Rufus couldn’t tell if Reno was only agreeing with him to gain a place in the company, or if he actually wanted to be Rufus’ friend, but either way it was going relatively well. “Do you agree, or not?” he asked, impatiently.

  
Reno sighed, then looked up. “Look, I’m just gonna say this right now. I know what the Turks are about. I know that if one of them fucks up, they get shot and no one ever sees them again. So I'm gonna do whatever I have to to avoid getting shot and incinerated, okay?”

  
Rufus spent a fraction of a second wondering how Reno was so informed before answering. “Perfect. That's all I ask.”

  
Reno scuffed his shoe against the linoleum again, looking down at the floor. “Whatever man…”

 

Reno didn’t seem loyal to him in the slightest, only looking out for his self-interests. But he was honest. He trusted Rufus to understand his motives. That was a start. Rufus smiled, silently scheming about his new friend.

 

########

 

Tseng tried to convince himself that hiring Reno hadn’t been a mistake.

 

The other recruit Tseng had chosen chose the name Rude, a choice Tseng didn’t bother to question. Everyone had their reasons. Rude was an exceptionally quiet, but also exceptionally talented hand-to-hand fighter. He’d had no formal training, but he was driven and had practiced on his own. Tseng was pleased with his choice in every way possible. Rude would do well in the Turks.

 

Reno was the exact opposite.

 

He was fast, that was very much apparent. He could outrun anything, and was agile enough to keep his balance in most situations. However, those were his best qualities. He was sloppy, loud, and belligerent. When he came in without wearing a tie for the second day in a row, and said he’d lost it, Tseng had berated him for being careless and told him to get one from Requisitions, and Reno had finally caved and said with reluctant embarrassment that he’d left it at home, because he didn’t know how to tie it. He would have rather gotten in trouble and been thought careless and irresponsible than admit that he didn’t know how to tie a tie. Tseng sighed and told him to go train, and learn to tie it.

 

Also, he forgot his work shoes three times before finally remembering to wear them to work. He complained about their discomfort constantly, and Tseng told him to invest in a pair that he liked. Reno still grumbled disrespectfully, and Tseng berated him for that.

 

_ And _ he wouldn’t tuck in his shirt or zip up his jacket. 

 

“Come on, I can’t fight as easily if it restricts my movement!” Reno cried one day. “It’s too tight…”

 

Tseng deadpanned. “Then go get a uniform a size bigger.”

 

“That would look stupid on me!” Reno pouted.

 

Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience wearing thin. Reno was just as bad as Rufus on one of his bad days. “Whatever, just go train.”

 

Reno was wild and unchained. Tseng tried not to cringe every time Veld reprimanded Reno; it was Tseng’s fault he’d gotten hired and was causing the commander grief. Tseng did his best to handle Reno so that Veld would never have to see him. He at least made Reno make himself presentable when he went out in public. He wondered if the teen had actually learned to tie his tie, or if he was forced to ask someone to do it for him every time he went out.

 

Tseng understood that he really was trying though. Reno had pride in his job and in his skills--he simply had no discipline and was used to a certain way of doing things. He worked hard and got the job done, however, and that was the basic creed of the Turks. But Reno needed to learn discipline if he was going to survive, and Tseng took every opportunity to teach him that.

 

As if to illustrate the importance of this discipline, tragedy struck on the battlefield of the western continent.

 

One of the senior Turks was killed in action.

 

His transport van was sabotaged and it exploded, killing the Turk all three infantrymen inside. Tseng was stunned when he heard the news, as was pretty much everyone else. They had considered it a possibility, but they didn’t actually believe one of them could be killed. They were too careful.

 

But death was a very real possibility. It had happened to the best of them, one of the three older seniors. There were only three first-generation Turks left-- including Veld--and two second-gen Turks, Goran and Nadya. Tseng had a feeling that he and the younger Turks would all be deployed for covert ops soon enough, to support the seniors. They had to be ready. Even Rosalind and Knife would be deployed if Veld felt they were ready.

 

He was secretly glad that Reno and Rude were new, inexperienced recruits, because Shinra didn’t discriminate by age. They would be held back from the field until they got some more experience. didn’t need to see war, yet.

 

#########

 

Goran was nervous.

 

He’d never let anyone see, of course. Nadya could guess, but she couldn’t prove it. He was a picture of calm as he watched her pace back and forth in their training room.

 

“You done for today?” he asked, nonchalantly.

 

“Don’t you think it’s weird that one of our most experienced Turks was blown to all hell by a sabotaged car?” the female Turk answered, fully aware that Goran knew she was upset.

 

Goran frowned. It was weird, but it had happened. Their superior had simply been careless. He shrugged, not bothering to reply verbally.

 

Nadya stopped pacing and turned to Goran, frowning. “He wouldn’t just miss something like that. He was one of the best. I think he was in an impossible situation and the report is a load of bullshit. He was sent into that situation without knowing all the details, because nobody gives a damn if we live or die.”

 

Goran shrugged again. “Isn’t that how it’s always been? We look out for ourselves, because nobody else will.”

 

Nadya glared at him. “It wasn’t this bad, before. Our orders are stupid, and we’re fighting a pointless war that’s getting countless people killed. I don’t want to work for a company that does this.”

 

Goran kept his expression even at this revelation. He was an expert at the whole Turk-expression thing. “We do some good. Isn’t that why we joined in the first place? It’s more complicated than that.”

 

Nadya scowled at the floor in front of her. “What’s the point? We’re the Turks, and we’re being used as cannon fodder. The company is going to shit.”

 

Goran finally frowned, his gaze joining hers on the floor uncomfortably. “Yeah… We knew this could happen, though.”

 

Nadya stared at the floor and pushed a few strands of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail back behind her ear. “I don’t want to die for the company.”

 

They were silent for a long while. She hadn’t actually said it outright, but by saying “I don’t want to die for the company” she probably meant she wanted to quit. Being in her thirties, she was too young to retire and she knew it. Not only that, but nobody would be allowed to retire with a war going on. Goran finally gave her a sympathetic frown. “Nadya… You’re not really gonna leave, are you? I’d have to stop you.”

 

Nadya didn’t look up right away. She was considering her options. Hesitation was as good as admitting her guilt, and Goran’s face fell.

 

Finally, she looked up at him with a blank face. “Of course not.”

 

It was bullshit, and Goran knew it. But as long as she didn’t act on her feelings, he wouldn’t have to stop her. As long as he didn’t know that she was gone, he wouldn’t have to go take her out. 

 

“See you later,” Nadya waved to him and headed out of the room. Goran waved back, the picture of calm again. As long as nobody ordered him to, he wouldn't have to hurt her. He could pretend everything was fine until she left. He grabbed his knives and went for another round in the simulator, putting all thoughts of killing his comrades behind him.

 

########

 

Veld called him up to the office. Goran knew it was one of two things. He hoped it was because he’d forgotten to turn in another report and that he’d soon have to do city patrols as punishment.

 

“Nadya never checked in this morning,” the commander said, a curiously resigned frown on his face behind his intertwined fingers.

 

Shit. He definitely knew.

 

Veld looked up at him. “She didn’t call in sick, either. Have you seen her today?”

 

He had to answer. He liked his job, and he liked living. And he didn’t like complicating things with lies he knew would be figured out instantly. “No, sir. I can check her apartment.” Hopefully he could take a really long time to do it, and give her more time to escape.

 

Veld nodded. “Go ahead. Report to me if you find her, or not.”

 

Or not. Veld knew. Goran gave a curt nod. “Yes, sir.” Then he turned and left.

 

If he walked, he could take up to an hour to get to her apartment. Veld would be irritated, but he could handle that. He headed to the stairwell, determined to take as long as possible.

 

########

 

They’d lost two Turks within a week.

 

Tseng rubbed his temples. What was Nadya thinking!? Maybe if she returned, Veld would explain everything away and she could have her job back. Maybe. Veld had saved Tseng’s hide more times than he could count, so he had no doubt that he would try to do the same for Nadya.

 

She would have to return for that to happen, though.

 

Tseng sighed, getting up from the sofa in the lounge. He only had about an hour to get ready and head out with Goran to look for her. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

 

Which was worse, a mission like this or going down to Aerith’s house to ignore his duty in merciless apprehension? He couldn’t decide.

 

An hour later, he and Goran were out in the city, investigating and looking for a trail. Goran had instructed him to check every shop and store and ask the workers if they had seen Nadya, while Goran watched the streets and spoke to travel agencies. He figured that if Nadya were heading out into hiding, she would need supplies and a way to get out of the city.

 

Goran was quiet, and it put Tseng on edge. It was completely understandable, but his lack of jokes and charisma threw Tseng off. He figured that Goran and Nadya had at least been good friends. Tseng didn't really have anyone like that, but he could imagine how distressing the situation was for the man who was usually so carefree.

 

Tseng searched for hours, wondering if this would be the extent of his mission for the day. Or maybe Veld would order overtime because of the importance of the mission. He sighed as he left yet another shop without any leads. He didn’t expect to find a runaway Turk so easily, and he was suffering from extreme boredom from the grunt investigative work, but every place he went to that didn’t have any leads meant he was still one more step from finding anything on Nadya.

 

He was beginning to see a pattern between himself and finding excuses to not do his job in certain unpleasant situations. He dearly hoped Veld didn’t notice.

 

They searched the sectors most connected with what they were looking for, and found nothing. Goran mercifully sent Tseng home. It would be pointless to keep searching and exhaust themselves. Nadya wasn’t going to be any more hidden by the time they resumed their search again.

 

In the following days, they searched in more shady areas, places someone would go if they were looking to get out of the city unseen and undocumented. These were much more difficult to get straight answers out of, and Tseng was forced to use his powers of persuasion. Nadya was a Turk, and she knew how to keep herself unseen, but there were certain things that not even a Turk could hide. Even going into hiding, one had to leave a trail of witnesses, and Turks were trained to find witnesses. Certain things couldn’t be hidden.

 

Most of the shops and businesses down in the slums liked to give Tseng grief for no reason, but once he showed them that he meant business they fessed up and said they didn’t know anything. If they had known something, they would have done anything to get the Turks out of their business, and so they all squealed that they didn’t know--until one guy did. Tseng went into a pub, knowing that it was a front for illicit business like smuggling--items or people--and the bartender stiffened immediately. 

 

Lots of people stiffened when they first saw a Turk walk into their business, but Tseng soon learned, using his powers of intimidation and persuasion of course, that this guy had seen Nadya and done business with her. When Tseng threatened him with the same punishment they’d give Nadya for being an accessory to her crimes, the bartender caved and told him everything. Nadya had hired the best boatman he knew to take her across the ocean for a large sum--probably everything that had been in her bank account. Tseng got a description of the boat and the owner (he couldn’t just look it up, because the whole thing was unregistered and off the books), thanked the bartender with a fake smile, then turned and left the stuffy bar behind.

 

He much rather enjoyed using his skills to defend than to threaten people. A lot of these people were wretches, and probably deserved the scare he gave them, but he still didn’t like it. He shook away the discomfort and took out his phone to report to Goran.

 

They had probably taken too long to find her trail before she left, but Goran sent Tseng to search Junon while he scanned the coastline with a chopper. Tseng found the area they left from, but from there they wouldn’t be able to tell where they were headed. Goran picked him up in the chopper and flew over to Costa del Sol, and reported to Veld who deployed Jet, Dakota, and the two older Turks as backup. They couldn’t let Nadya get away and hide on the western continent.

 

Goran then had him take the chopper and scan the ocean for the entire next day, while he stayed in the city and kept watch over the ports. The others were stationed at other landing points along the coast, since Nadya knew Costa del Sol was probably the first place the Turks would look for her. Tseng forced himself to stay awake and man the chopper for the first time alone, and scan the ocean for hours at a time. By their calculations, the quickest they could make it across the ocean was three days, but depending on the weather and the route they were taking it could take longer. Tseng first scanned the southern Junon area to make sure they weren’t just going along the coastline and around to Mideel, but he found nothing. He then headed out into the middle of the ocean, trying not to think about how if his chopper failed he could drown unceremoniously.

 

Nothing went wrong with the chopper, he survived his long shifts of searching the ocean, and nobody found anything for days, until the sixth day when they all got a message from Dakota up by Corel about how he had spotted something coming up to the coastline in an odd place off in the distance. He stayed up on his high vantage point on a cliff edge until the passenger jumped off the boat in a precarious place, and the boat sped off. He reported which direction the figure ran in, and set off in pursuit. The others quickly headed in his direction in vehicles for backup.

 

Tseng arrived in Dakota’s area first, and assisted him in tracking the blonde woman to an inn near Corel. Dakota covered the perimeter while Tseng rushed inside, hoping the element of surprise would be enough against one of the senior Turks. He’d trained with Goran a few times, and he was vicious, so Tseng needed every advantage he could muster.

 

He kicked open the door and aimed his pistol right at Nadya’s face, hoping to all the gods she didn’t fight back, because he  _ would  _ pull the trigger.

 

Only, it wasn’t Nadya.

 

The woman jumped and yelled in fright when the door crashed open, sending her chair flying away from her into the floor, and she dove behind the desk to grab her switchblade from where she’d stowed it in her bag. But Tseng didn’t go in for the assault, because it wasn’t her. He immediately noticed not just from her reaction, but from the second he had to look at her face.

 

She held her blade as if she had used it before, but Tseng was clearly more intimidating than anyone she had faced and she quickly realized that she was way out of her league. Tseng asked her who she was and what she was doing there, and that he wasn’t going to hurt her because she wasn’t his target. Then he stowed his gun away, hoping the girl didn’t try to run.

 

She spilled everything. She worked for a man in Midgar as a decoy specialist, and had only been told instructions on what to do and where to go. She never knew whom she would be impersonating, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting a Turk! She expressed vehemently that she wanted out of this deal.

 

Tseng felt badly about it, but he was forced to interrogate her as well. She cried and said she didn’t know anything else. That was when Goran arrived, and said he would take over.

 

They hadn’t had to physically hurt her, luckily. But Turks were trained in a way that made emotional trauma just as painful as physical. The woman gave up every single tiny detail they asked for, and much more.

 

Goran finally pulled back from the trembling, crying woman, and sighed. “Alright, I believe you. Your boss sounds like an asshole.”

 

“He is!” she cried. “But what else am I supposed to do!?”

 

Goran heartlessly ignored her cries. “You’re lucky you weren’t told anything about your client. If you’d known anything, we would have had to take care of you, too.” He said it with the same nonchalance that he would use to describe the weather.

 

The woman sobbed again, but to her credit she didn’t completely break down. She was still in control, somewhat. “Sorry about your shitty boss, ma’am, but we’ve got a target to catch,” Goran said casually. “Have a nice day.” Goran motioned for Tseng to follow and they left the building.

 

They were all the way back where they’d started, all because they hadn’t had a chance to look at the woman’s face before they started to pursue her. Their only lead was the decoy’s boss, whom also happened to be that same bartender that Tseng had gotten his lead from, and Tseng had a suspicion that the man would be completely useless.

 

He  _ was _ useless, but Goran enjoyed threatening his business again to get as much information as possible out of him, and just for kicks. The guy was a complete asshole, and Tseng wished he’d thought to warn the woman not to return to her job in case the man wanted to punish her for getting caught. He hoped that Goran’s threats were enough to discourage retaliatory action against the man’s employees. Tseng gave his own threatening looks with arms folded in the background to support this.

 

The man had no idea where Nadya was. He didn’t know her name, who she was, or where she had gone after paying him. It was a flawless plan. They had assumed the blonde woman whom everyone described to them was Nadya, and hadn’t even considered a decoy. They were back to square one, and Nadya was probably long gone by then.

 

Goran blew a long breath past his lips. “Either she's long gone…. Or she's right under our noses. She could be hiding out right here in the city. We’ll look here, first, starting tomorrow.” Then he left Tseng without another word, probably anxious to get out of the filthy, smog-filled air of the slums.

 

########

 

They used a photo to ask if people have seen her, searching the entire city again. Veld assigned more people to the case, but it was taking too long and the president was becoming impatient. A month passed as well as a hundred false leads, and Tseng hoped the case would be dropped, or put on hold like his Ancient case. Maybe Shinra would forget about it and decide the war was more important.

 

He shouldn’t have hoped for good fortune, because soon after that they hit a lead.

 

“Yeah, that's her!” a rather jovial and cooperative old man that ran a general store in Sector 4 said. “I mean her hair ain't that color, but she coulda dyed it, yeah?”

 

Goran didn’t react. He never did. “You sure? Look really carefully at her face.”

 

“Yeah, that’s definitely her! She come around sometimes fo’ supplies an’ such. Nobody around here knows her, so I figure she don’t get out much.”

 

“Thanks, old man,” Goran said evenly, pulling the photo away and stowing it in his suit pocket.

 

“Come again!”

 

Goran turned to leave and Tseng followed, anxiety building in his chest for a reason he hoped was unfounded. Goran looked sure that it was her, this time.

 

“She’s really close,” Goran said without inflection. “She let herself fall into a pattern, and that’s how we found her.”

 

Tseng frowned. He’d sounded distant. “It might not be her. The hair is the wrong color.”

 

Goran chuckled mirthlessly. “That's the first thing we should have done, to be honest. The face is what matters, and that guy was one-hundred-percent positive he’d seen her before. We got dragged on that wild goose chase with the decoy because we didn't show anyone pictures.”

 

Tseng frowned, wondering how Goran had failed to use pictures in the first place. Logically, it looked as if Goran had deliberately used shoddy tactics to draw the investigation out as long as possible. He was too good a Turk to make mistakes like that.

 

Though Tseng didn't blame him. He’d rather think that Goran had made stupid mistakes. Otherwise, Goran was impeding the investigation and that was a serious transgression. He didn’t want to lose anyone else. Tseng pushed those thoughts away, because he was thinking about how he didn’t want to do his job, again. Why couldn’t everything just be clear-cut, right or wrong?

 

They easily found where Nadya was staying, a small apartment in a family housing unit. She figured she would be protected in a place with families and children, and playground equipment in the back yard. Were they really going to go in and attack her with all these children around?

 

Goran stayed and surveyed the area in the shadows, then sent Tseng home for the night. Tseng frowned, wondering why they weren’t going to just go in and get her, but he didn’t ask. There could be a lot of reasons, one being that Goran didn’t think they could take her without a proper plan. There was that, and Tseng learned as he was making his way back to his apartment that he would be the one going in to get her the next day.

 

Tseng paused halfway up the stairs to his apartment staring at the message from Veld. He’d been ready to pull the trigger on Nadya when he thought she was behind that door in the inn, but he found himself dreading it now. It seemed more final, because they knew for sure that she was in there. Goran saw her with his own eyes, and was reporting on her movements. There wasn’t a possibility of them finding the wrong woman, again. Tseng was one-hundred percent guaranteed to have to face Nadya the next day, and he didn’t think that she was going to cooperate. He managed to sleep despite his apprehension, thanks to how wiped out he was from the nonstop investigation.

 

The next morning, Tseng received his mission details from Veld. He was to infiltrate Nadya’s dwelling while Goran kept watch from outside, and neutralize her. Tseng didn’t ask if that was a suggestion, because he was afraid the answer would be ‘no’. He hoped that Veld wouldn’t be angry if he only captured her. He hoped and prayed that Nadya didn’t try to run, because he would be forced to stop her.

 

He had never killed, before.

 

He knew it would be asked of him, eventually. That’s what Turks did. That what everyone in Public Safety did, they protected the public using violence. Though, he selfishly wished that his first blood could come from someone attacking his charge, or a nameless soldier on the Wutai frontier, and not someone he’d known for almost a decade.

 

He made his way through the slums, carefully checking his surroundings for anything suspicious as he always did. Goran was monitoring the place Nadya was staying at, and he’d confirmed seeing her go in. The area was surrounded by children and families. If a weapon was fired, they would panic. It was a terrible place for them, but perfect for a fugitive.

 

He went up to the roof of a neighboring building where Doran was staked out, watching the complex. Tseng could climb down the fire escape and jump to the roof of Nadya’s building, then enter through the top. The question was which entrance to take.

 

Goran let out a low breath, shaking his head at the bleak situation. Tseng couldn’t understand how he was so calm. “There really isn’t a good way to do this. The least bad way is through a small window on the roof, leading to right over the stairs. Drop in from there and head to the left, and her door should be right there. I’ll watch her window to make sure she doesn’t escape that way. You’ve got to make sure she doesn’t get past  _ you _ and run out the building front where all the kids are.”

 

Tseng nodded, a question having waited in the back of his mind since the beginning of this wild chase. “Sir. You know her best.” He hesitated, not really wanting to finish. “Is there any way to bring her in alive?”

 

Goran turned and gave him a long, blank look, as if he were only delaying the inevitable, and Tseng didn’t have to guess what he was going to say. “No,” Goran said without another word. There was no way that Nadya would come quietly.

 

Tseng frowned somberly. “Did you see this coming, sir?” If he was so sure, then there must have been a reason for Nadya to run. There must have been a sign.

 

Goran gave him another hesitant look, then deflected the question. “Go on. She’s at a disadvantage, being trapped like that. You can’t lose. Unless you underestimate her. Then she’ll kill you.”

 

Tseng opened his mouth to protest, to say that it could turn out alright and nobody would get hurt, but he closed his mouth. He couldn’t promise anything, and it wouldn’t make the situation any better to wait longer. He nodded and got up, heading down the fire escape.

 

He jumped and rolled cleanly onto the roof of Nadya’s complex, making only a small sound that would be lost in the cacophony of slum noise. He quickly and silently made his way over to the window Goran had mentioned, the one that opened to the internal stairwell. It was the window that was the shortest distance to her door, and he would spend the least amount of time in the building getting over there and therefore would have the least amount of time risking being noticed. It was as solid a plan as they could come up with, but it would have to do.

 

Goran had made sure the window was one that could be opened, and had unscrewed the legs that kept it from swinging out far enough for a person to crawl through, so Tseng easily pulled the window out and crawled through, thankful that he wasn’t a very large person or he might have had some difficulty. He pulled one leg through awkwardly so he could twist through and on his feet and not go tumbling through onto his back, and he let the window fall against his hand with a slight twinge of pain because that was at least quieter than having it crash against the wooden frame. Once he was through he closed the window quietly, then turned and pulled out his pistol.

 

Everything would happen in the next few seconds. He would have to determine if Nadya was going to give up within a fraction of a second, and if not then he would have to take her out. Once he started, there was no room for hesitation. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm his nerves. Room 302, second on the left. He dashed down the hall.

 

The floorplan had the living room in the front, so if Nadya wasn’t there he would have to race through the house to catch her in a different room. His mind raced as he ran up and smashed his heel into the space next to the lock, splintering the cheap wood of the doorframe and sending the door crashing into the apartment. He dashed in, checked the corners, and was met with a coffee cup flying right at his face.

 

His breath caught at the development as he barely ducked out of the way, the mug smashing against the wall of the hallway behind him. He jumped back up to see Nadya dash to the kitchen, rushing to grab a go bag on the kitchen table and throwing it through the window with a crash. Tseng jerked his weapon up and aimed at her back as she went to jump through.

 

He only had a fraction of a second to shoot before she cleared the window. He didn’t even have time to yell for her to stop. She knew what she was doing. There was no other outcome to this.

 

He hesitated.

 

Nadya was out the window in half a second, falling the three stories to the ground below. Tseng’s heart pounded in his chest and he felt his arms trembling. He couldn’t pull the trigger, not without warning her first. She had run, and his decision was clear, but he had hesitated.

 

He dashed to the window and noticed that she had cut the glass at the bottom so that it would break cleanly and allow her an escape without ruining her hands. He skidded to a stop at the window and looked out to see one of many sad-looking but tall bushes had been crushed, seemingly under someone’s weight. He cursed to himself, then his phone went off. He answered it, dashing back through the apartment and into the hallway, not confident that the sad bush could handle protecting another person from a fall.

 

_ “She got out the window, damn. She’s heading south. I’ll contact the others.” _

 

Tseng ignored the dread pooling in his stomach as he raced down the stairs. “I’m on it,” he said before quickly hanging up and stowing his phone again. He jumped to the last landing and crashed out the side door, and took off down the road.

 

Nadya had been ready to go at a moment’s notice. Did she wear shoes to bed, also? Probably. That wasn’t a way to live. Why hadn’t she just given herself up?

 

Why did he hesitate?

 

His legs burned and his lungs ached as he fought to catch up with her, wherever she’d run. He dodged people and dogs and pieces of scrap wood and metal, and when he got to the end of the narrow street he skid to a stop in the dirt and pulled out his gun again, scanning in front of him. There was no woman with brunette-dyed hair and a red backpack.

 

He cursed again, and his phone buzzed with the familiar buzz of a group conversation. He checked it quickly, wondering if Goran had any idea where Nadya was headed. Would she try to leave the city, or would they lose her in the thick of the slums again?

 

Knife was already nearby and she was climbing a taller building to see if she could spot Nadya. Jet was on her way from the next sector over, to keep her from escaping that way. Rosalind was in Sector 3, headed towards the other escape route. One of the senior Turks was on the way from Shinra with a chopper to pick up Goran and scan the air. Tseng panted lightly, gripping his phone tightly.

 

Because he’d hesitated, Goran had had to call for assistance from every available Turk. He’d messed up, again. He cursed, dread climbing up and choking his throat. He’d finally faced a situation that he’d been unable to handle.

 

He had to fix it, or he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He quickly typed out a more detailed description of her since Goran hadn’t seen her clearly, then took off into Sector 4 again searching for the brunette woman with the red backpack.

 

########

 

Jet found her first.

 

Nadya had headed towards Sector 6, probably to get lost in the cacophony that was one of the busiest sectors. But she’d had to get past Jet in Sector 5 for that, and Jet had the record for fastest Turk alive, still. Tseng pushed away his dread that he wouldn’t be the one to catch Nadya while he ran as fast as he could into Sector 5, with Knife close behind. At least if Jet caught Nadya, her weapon wasn’t as lethal and maybe they could capture Nadya alive.

 

Tseng got another message. Knife was on the chopper with Goran, since she had been the furthest behind, and they would drop her off in Sector 5 near Jet’s position. Tseng was already running through the barrier between Sector 4 and 5, so there was no need to pick him up, and he scanned the area in front of him for any chaos.

 

The people of the slums didn’t usually bat an eye at sudden bouts of violence, but if a Shinra chopper was involved they tended to get at least a little restless. They all looked as if they were waiting for the chopper to go away before resuming their business. Tseng rushed through the streets to find more chaotic displays of restlessness.

 

The group got a call that came through. Tseng answered as he ran, and Jet was already talking into the phone.

 

_ “I have visual and I am in pursuit, headed away from the church to the west.” _

 

_ “We have your location, we’re headed to back you up,”  _ said Knife. They’d probably drop her and Goran off on a roof so they could work their magic with knives. Tseng would head towards the marketplace in case Nadya cut back somehow, and work his way inward.

 

_ “Copy that,”  _ said Jet.  _ “Shit, she just turned a corner by the marketplace, headed south again. That’s a dead end, what--AHH--”  _ Jet was cut off and there was a loud clatter, probably of her phone falling to the ground.

 

Goran’s voice came through in his usual calm manner.  _ “Jet, do you read?” _ Then there were scuffling noises and another loud crack before Jet’s line went dead.

 

Tseng’s stomach dropped. Nadya wouldn’t kill them, would she? But then again, she was running for her life, so she might have. She could have just killed Jet.  _ Shit. _

 

_ “Jet’s line is dead, Nadya probably broke her phone. Tseng, take up the pursuit while we surround the area!” _ Goran commanded.

 

“I’m on it!” Tseng said. Running with his phone open in his hand was precarious, and he wondered when Shinra would invest in manufacturing some headsets for field agents. He put it in his breast pocket, hoping it wouldn’t fall out and leave him without a way to communicate. He dashed past the marketplace, briefly considering going the way Jet had to see if she was alright, but he decided against it and went towards Sector 6 instead. He heard the chopper behind him and figured they could see him, and they were probably setting up behind him to corner Nadya again, He couldn’t let her escape to Sector 6.

 

The chopper flew overhead again and he heard voices coming from his phone. He held it up to his ear while he scanned the area.

 

_ “I see her headed west again!” _ came Knife’s bright voice. Her footsteps smacked along whatever surface she was running on, and she gave a grunt of exertion before running again.  _ “I hit her! I’m losing her, but she’s injured on her right arm.” _

 

_ “Copy that,”  _ said Goran. _ “I’m jumping off at Wall Market in case she gets in there, then the chopper will follow your position. Don’t make me have to use my skills,”  _ he said humorously.

 

Tseng frowned, wondering how he could joke and how he was so calm. He put the phone back in his pocket and sprinted towards the wall, his heart hammering from exertion and nerves. Now at least Nadya had one more identifying mark, thanks to Knife. So that would make it easier if they lost her again. But they couldn’t lose her again.

 

And that’s when he saw her. She ran out of an alley just ahead of him, headed for the wall. His heart leapt into his throat, and he chased after her. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and practically yelled into the mic. “I have visual, she’s headed towards the wall to Sector 6! I don’t think I can stop her before she runs through!”

 

_ “Don’t worry,”  _ Goran said.  _ “I’ve got it secured, she won’t get very far into the sector. Just send her towards me and I can take care of it.” _

 

“Yes sir!” Tseng said, not as enthusiastic as he sounded. He was only slightly glad to do as he said, because he wanted this case to be over. He never wanted a part of it in the first place. He didn’t want to hurt one of his comrades.

 

Nadya ran through the craggy opening from Sector 5 to Sector 6, and suddenly headed north again. Tseng quickly followed, alerting the others. “I can try to send her south again, but I don’t think-- _ Shit--” _ he almost tripped over a large barrel Nadya had thrown to stop him.

 

_ “Just keep after her, I’m on the other side ready to stop her if she goes west again. There’s only one way to get through except by climbing over buildings, and the chopper has it covered.” _

 

Nadya suddenly turned and threw a pipe at him, at a terrifying velocity. A jolt of adrenaline rushed through him and he tried to dodge, but it hit the hand his phone was in and he cried out in pain, dropping it. The phone’s flip-screen was snapped off, and he held his smarting hand and quickly deduced that it wasn’t broken, and looked up again. Nadya turned a corner, and Tseng narrowed his eyes remembering how she’d done the same with Jet and Jet had somehow lost contact with them. He raced to the end of the alley and kept away from the corner in case Nadya was waiting.

 

She’d tipped a large wooden pallet and a discarded mattress into his path and he cursed. He saw her running down the alley, but she was too far for him to get a clear shot so he’d have to follow. He stepped on the pallet, and the rotten wood snapped under his foot and almost tripped him, and the mattress was tipped and rested across the alley so he had to jump on it to get it to lie flat enough for him to run through. Nadya turned another corner and he raced after her.

 

He did the same thing as with the other alley and stayed away from the corner, and when he turned he saw that there was nothing for Nadya to hide behind. That, and he had caught up to her easily; she wasn’t far away at all. She probably hadn’t trained the whole time she was hiding, in case it made her look more suspicious. 

 

He could take the shot.

 

He pulled out his pistol and in one fluid motion, he aimed for her leg and pulled the trigger.

 

Nadya yelled in pain as it ripped through her right thigh from back to front, and fell to the ground. Tseng raced up to her and held his pistol trained at her, his heart pounding. “Don’t move!”

 

He panted, his heart hammering in his ears and his arms barely holding his pistol still. Nadya hissed in pain, apparently taking a gunshot wound to the thigh very well. She clutched at her bleeding leg, and looked up at him with a withering expression. “Was it too much to ask, to just want to live?” she asked, her voice quivering in pain.

 

Tseng felt a pain of sympathy, but he quashed that as soon as he remembered she could have killed Jet. “Is Jet alive?” he asked, his voice taking on the tone it did when he interrogated reprobates.

 

Nadya sneered. “I didn’t check. I hit her in the head and ran for it. None of you gave me any choice.”

 

Tseng clenched his jaw. “You’d even kill your own comrades. You leaving the company puts everyone at risk.”

 

Nadya only stared at him, hissing in pain. “You sound like you actually believe that.” Then she sneered again. “You’ll make a perfect Turk.”

 

Tseng frowned deeper. “Come quietly, and you’ll live.”

 

Nadya’s expression dropped then, to something more resigned. “You know they won’t let me live. So if you ever consider doing something like this, you’d better have a better escape plan.” Her voice quivered near the end of her sentence, and she held her bleeding leg tighter. She winced in pain and gritted her teeth.

 

Tseng’s jaw hurt from clenching and forcing himself to stay calm. This was his job. And if he didn’t do it, Goran would get there and do it for him. The report would be that he failed to take the shot twice. Everyone would know that he couldn’t do what it took to get the job done.

 

Nadya’s breath shuddered, and she sneered at him again. “If you don’t do it, someone else will. And they’ll call you a pussy and never trust you again.”

 

Tseng’s gut clenched. Every part of him was tense. It was the complete opposite of how he’d been when he’d easily shot her in the leg.

 

Nadya gritted her teeth and fumed. “Do it! End it, just do it you piece of shit!”

 

Tseng’s mind raced. He couldn’t decide. He wished that Nadya were a terrible person who had done unforgivable things, but she wasn’t. She’d only run for her life.

 

Nadya suddenly sneered and reached for her backpack, which she’d taken off for some reason, probably to get rid of it since it was an identifier. She ripped the side zipper open. She was going to pull something out of it. The only thing she could possibly want from her bag at this moment was a weapon--

 

Tseng pulled the trigger and the shot blew her head backwards so he couldn’t see the damage. He didn’t want to. Maybe if he didn’t look, he could believe that he’d missed.

 

His breath shuddered, and he felt a sick feeling start to pool in his gut. His heart raced and sweat broke out on his forehead and he forced himself not to hyperventilate, and the holstered his gun as quickly as possible to get it out of his trembling hands. He couldn’t not look. Not looking would be dishonoring her memory. He stepped forward towards her.

 

He fought the bile rising in his esophagus as he surveyed the damage. He ignored everything but the hole right in the middle of her forehead and her seemingly peaceful expression. He could only hope she was at peace. He knelt down next to her and closed her eyes, bowing his head and praying that her soul reached whatever paradise she wished for.

 

That was it, then. He felt the sick feeling start to recede, replaced by numbness. He stood, wishing he had his phone so he could report to Veld.

 

Not too much later, Goran found him. He skid to a stop when he saw his target standing in the alley, and sighed when he realized Tseng was the only one standing and that it was all over. He walked over and gave Tseng a pat on the shoulder. “It’s all done, now,” he said, with a somber expression.

 

Tseng didn’t answer immediately, his reactions and feelings dulled. “Is Jet okay?” he asked, numbly.

 

“We’re looking for her now,” Goran said. He was still calm as ever. “We’ll let you know as soon as we find her, okay? Go home.”

 

Tseng frowned slightly. “The report…”

 

“I’ll handle it,” said Goran. “Go on home. You did well.”

 

Tseng nodded wordlessly, not really believing his last statement. Nonetheless, he turned and began his long trek back up to the Plate.

 

He only then understood how people could think nothing of killing another being. Life was fragile, and it meant nothing to anyone but the individual. If they weren’t murdered, or killed by disease, everyone died of old age eventually. Some simply chose to do things that weren’t acceptable, and death was the price for them. Nobody was special. The rules applied to everyone, no matter if they were good people or bad.

 

This was Tseng’s job, and he’d better get used to it.

 

########

 

Two Turks from two generations were lost in one week. They hadn’t actually lost Nadya for months after, but she’d left them the same week. It was unprecedented. Veld had done a lot of damage control to convince the president that no, the Turks were not going bad and no he did not need to disband them.

 

Luckily, Jet only had a concussion from the ordeal and she was healed within an hour after they found her. She paced the large training room she and a few of the other Turks were sharing, fuming. “Maybe if they’d sent all of us, and not just the oldest of us, we could have helped them. Maybe the old man wouldn’t have died.”

 

Katana sighed. “You should be glad we haven’t been sent into the field. We’d probably just get killed, too.”

 

Jet spun on her heel and reeled to face him, her face outraged. “What, so we’re supposed to just let the army fight it out, let them die instead!?” she snapped. “Fuck that. Fuck Nadya for running like a scared little bitch. We’re no more important than those in the front lines. It’s our job to use our superior strength and skill to end this fucking war and stop people from dying, even at the cost of our own. So fuck off.” She spun on her heel again, and left the room without another word.

 

Katana watched her leave, his mouth hanging open in exasperation. “I didn’t mean it like that…” he looked at the floor in front of him and folded his arms defensively.

 

Cissnei pat his shoulder and sighed. “We know. She’s just angry at the situation, that’s all. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

 

Katana frowned, apparently not worried about being consoled by a younger girl. “She just doesn’t seem like someone who would die for anyone, you know? So that shit about saying we should fight… it seems out of character for her.”

 

“Maybe she’s always been like that, deep down,” Cissnei said with a somber expression. She was only nineteen, but she understood some things much better than the older members. “Or maybe she just can’t stand idly by and do nothing, even though she might get hurt. She’s really fearless, isn’t she…”

 

Rosalind snapped a new clip into her pistol and pulled the slide, letting it snap back into place. “If we’re skilled enough, we don’t have to worry about dying. Katana, fight me.”

 

Katana shook his head in disbelief. Rosalind was almost intimidating despite her short stature. She  _ was _ intimidating. Sometimes. “Shit… okay.”

 

########

 

Tseng didn’t understand how just wanting to quit was a crime, but blatantly procrastinating in work wasn’t.

 

He’d gotten his assignment to bring Aerith back to Shinra two years before--going on three. Veld didn’t bug him about it anymore, for some reason, and it seemed like the president had forgotten about it. But he didn’t want to risk it coming up again, so he took time out of his work day to go down and visit Aerith. He hadn’t even tried convincing her again in those two years; she still wouldn’t even let him come near. So he merely stood by and watched for a while to show her he meant no harm.

 

Since she never seemed to want to approach him, this gave him a lot of time to think. Sometimes it wasn’t a good thing, but it couldn’t be helped. He only half-paid attention as Aerith played on the playground, as his thoughts replayed his last mission over and over in his head. Nadya hadn’t been a bad person. But she had paid for breaking the rules with her life. It wasn’t fair. There were certain things that were unforgivable no matter who committed those acts, and they were not up for debate, had no exceptions. Maybe someday the rules could be eased up upon, but that wouldn’t do anything for Nadya.

 

“Tseng?”

 

Tseng almost jumped, not noticing Aerith until her small voice jerked him away from his thoughts. She was  _ talking _ to him. He quickly composed himself. “Hello, Aerith.”

 

Aerith bit her lip nervously. “You look sad.”

 

Tseng frowned. He hadn’t been paying attention to how his face looked, but he didn’t think it looked  _ sad. _ “How can you tell?” he asked, humoring her.

 

Aerith pouted, her eyebrows drawing together in concentration. “I can feel it. You're different than usual.”

 

Tseng wondered if he’d simply let his guard down. He frowned, trying to remember how to talk to a ten-year-old that wasn’t an insufferable genius. “I’ll be okay. I'm not doing a good job if a child can tell my feelings.”

 

Aerith grinned impishly. “Well I'm special. Not everyone can.”

 

Tseng looked at her, quizzically. “You really are, you know that?”

 

Aerith blew up her cheeks in protest. “That doesn’t mean I'm going with you!”

 

Tseng smiled, and almost chuckled. “No, of course not.”

 

“Why are you sad?” Aerith asked, not to be swayed from her original line of questioning.

 

Tseng frowned. How could he word it without making Shinra look horrible, and therefore killing any chance of Aerith cooperating with them? He sighed. “Work is hard. I never know if I'm doing the right thing.”

 

Aerith cocked her head to the side, her eyes wide in question. “Why do you work for Shinra then?”

 

Tseng didn’t even have to think about that. “Because there are good people there, and they need me.”

 

Aerith frowned again, looking thoughtful. “I guess that makes sense.”

 

Aerith started asking him more questions about his work. Tseng ignored his last mission and told her about all the other things he did on a regular basis, like making sure nothing bad happened to Midgar and its citizens, and mountains of paperwork. Aerith stuck her nose up at the mention of anything related to ‘homework’, and Tseng asked if she went to school. She said Elmyra taught her, and made her do homework a lot and she didn't like it. Tseng offered to help her go to school and she nearly shouted his ear off in objection. He smiled.

 

She was talking to him, at least. It was a start. He found himself looking forward to visiting her.

 

########

 

He was dealing with the sick feeling easier. He couldn’t get the image of Nadya out of his head, though. It was hard to sleep when he kept dreaming about it and waking up. It took a toll on his work, and it was only a matter of time before someone noticed.

 

“You look like hell.”

 

Tseng took his time looking up at Goran from his place on the sofa, raising an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?” he joked lamely with an annoyed expression.

 

Goran shook his head and chuckled. Tseng narrowed his eyes and waited for an explanation. “You’re thinking too hard about things. You look like you feel like shit.”

 

Tseng’s gaze faltered and he looked away. He couldn’t deny that his thoughts had consumed him and had made it difficult to work. He didn’t want anyone to  _ know  _ that, though.

 

Goran stepped over to the coffee table and flipped Tseng’s file shut. “Come on. Alcohol helps. Also other things you can find, where we’re going.”

 

Tseng briefly considered the negative ramifications of going drinking with Goran. He’d never had much alcohol, so he didn’t know what he could handle. He also didn’t know if he wanted to be with Goran in a social situation in the first place. And if those reasons weren’t enough, he didn’t want a hangover in the morning, especially since he’d never had one and had heard horror stories about them.

 

He then decided that it couldn’t be too bad, and he sighed. “Sure. Whatever.”

 

Goran whooped for joy, and Tseng resigned himself to a night of whatever mischief Goran usually got up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Does Midgar have a Wal-Mart? It does now. And also, whomever designed this gods-forsaken city didn’t think that putting walls between Plate sectors was a bad idea, and they are terrible. Reeve probably screams about it on a daily basis. Really, there is no way Midgar could function with that design. But whatever, I’m trying to write it as if it does function somehow.
> 
> 2) I went with Reno’s eye color from Before Crisis, and even then is it cyan? Every source I found seemed to disagree on what color cyan is. Also sorry for taking his virginity at a hella young age, shit happens. I literally flipped a coin, it doesn’t matter.
> 
> 3) The Wikia page says Reeve is 35 during the OGC! DAMN that means I made him the new Urban Development Director at 20. Whoops. He’s a BABY. Shinra is full of babies right now. Scarlet’s like 25 or something.
> 
> 4) THE FIRST OCs FALL, WHOOP. I hope you enjoyed me shamelessly writing eleven pages about tracking and killing an OC. It was solely to steal Tseng’s innocence, so I hope it wasn’t boring.


	10. Overconfidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the real point of this fic is just to make Tseng uncomfortable in as many ways as possible. Yep. Also, Rufus FINALLY gets into some Serious Shit. Enjoy.
> 
> Trigger warning(?? Just to be safe): President Shinra is an abusive dick, and there is a suggestion of severely low self-esteem/depression even if it turns out not to be true.

Overconfidence

 

It became apparent that Heidegger being the sole department head of Public Safety Maintenance, which included the army as well as SOLDIER, and even the Turks, was less efficient than it could be. The difficulty in Wutai had shown that the man couldn’t handle three departments at once, even if Veld handled a great majority of the subdepartment of Administrative Research. If the Turks had a chief, then it might be a good idea for there to be a Director of SOLDIER.

 

And it was then that the young Lazard Deusericus was hired as the head of SOLDIER. He was barely twenty years old, but had shown incredible promise at the Academy as a strategist and administrative professional. He had chosen not to study the physical aspects of the military, which put him at a disadvantage while in school, but his skills were quickly regarded as some of the highest quality the Academy had ever seen. After he graduated near the very top of his class, the most skilled in everything but the physical aspects, he was immediately hired by Shinra as a tactician and quickly climbed the ranks. In just two years, he had gone from a low-level security advisor to being the head of Shinra’s most elite task force. In short, everyone wanted to talk to him.

 

Rufus looked on in disgust as Scarlet made herself very apparent in Lazard’s presence, practically caressing his arm and hanging off of him. To his credit, Lazard acted as if nothing was amiss, probably ignoring her obvious advances. Rufus usually searched for the earliest moment that he could escape from these kinds of functions, but he began to believe that by leaving early he would be seen as a weak little boy. They probably joked that he left early because it was past his bedtime. They had no idea that he only wanted to leave because he couldn’t stand to  _ look _ at them any longer. So he stayed this time, waiting patiently to meet the new Director of SOLDIER because Scarlet would not  _ leave him alone and go away. _

 

Finally after what seemed like ages, Scarlet found something else to hold her attention. Rufus saw a flicker of relief on the man’s face before pouncing. He plastered his most charming smile onto his face before addressing the director. “Congratulations on your position, Director.”

 

Lazard turned and greeted him amicably. “Thank you, sir. It’s an honor to have been selected, and I hope to shepherd the SOLDIER program into a new age.”

 

“As you said in your speech,” Rufus said with a mocking tone. Lazard had memorized his speech. Pathetic. Rufus wasn’t going to hide his ire from this man. He had to exert his superiority in front of any new directors as soon as possible, since he would be taking over the company one day.

 

Lazard didn’t bat an eye. “Yes, of course. I can spout memorized speeches all I like, but what really counts is action, wouldn't you say? I plan to make some changes within the week.” He smiled, looking the picture of an amenable diplomat.

 

Rufus studied his face while the man spoke, and didn’t hesitate when he stopped. “I look forward to seeing them, Director.” He smiled back.

 

Lazard gave an unexpected slight bow of respect to the thirteen-year-old. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said with that infuriating smile that probably never wavered, then headed over to a different group of self-important officials and bureaucrats.

 

Rufus squinted, staring a little longer at Lazard’s distant face. It could have been the dim lighting of the ballroom they were in, or maybe the man’s glasses had cast a strange shadow, but he looked exactly like Father.

 

########

 

Once Rufus got an idea in his head, he would stop at nothing until he had either proved it without a doubt, or refuted it. He easily poked into Lazard’s employment file and did a quick background check. Lazard had entered the Shinra Military Academy at age ten, after having attended attended a top-notch school on the Plate for two years. Before then, he had no prior school experience, and lived in the slums of Sector 3 with his mother. There was no father listed in his file.

 

Rufus’ smirk widened at his discovery. His mother couldn’t have paid for his schooling herself; someone else must have sponsored him. And the fact that no father was listed--not even a deceased or missing one--only supported his hypothesis about whom that individual could have been.

 

He only felt a twinge of disgust at his father, since he hadn’t even been with Rufus’ mother at the time Lazard would have been conceived, but it was disgusting nonetheless. He didn’t feel the need to test his hypothesis any further, since it probably wouldn't affect him in any way. But it was good to know that he might have some dirt on one of Shira’s highest officials. He decided to see if Lazard would react to some wheedling.

 

Rufus made his way out of yet another pointless executive meeting, his blood simmering with annoyance and frustration. Scarlet’s newest idea was to build a cannon, a  _ giant _ cannon and power it with mako. She insisted they could aim it at the western continent--specifically Wutai--and use it to end the war. They could build it right on top of Junon and use the cliff face behind it as a foundation. It was perfect. It was the stupidest thing Rufus had ever heard in his life and  _ Father had gone along with it. _

 

They were building a giant mako cannon. They were putting a reactor underwater to power it. And how long would it take to complete? Nobody knew. Rufus felt like throwing up a little in disgust. He was losing all respect for every one of the executives--even Reeve, because he did nothing to stop the madness.

 

He took deep, calming breaths as he made his way down to the 51st floor to bug Lazard. He wouldn’t hide that he loved wheedling people, but he also wanted the dear director to know what Rufus was aware of, and what kind of adversary Rufus would be if he ever decided to oppose the young executive-to-be. If Rufus could find out these kinds of things at the mere age of thirteen, what kind of enemy would he be when he became president? Rufus was sure the young director would think twice about such a thing after this.

 

Rufus pushed away all of the thoughts that made him angry, and focused on the information he was about to convey. He calmed himself, and offered up his charming smile again. The door to Lazard’s office opened with the familiar  _ swish _ and he walked in as if he owned the place. “Hello, Director.”

 

Lazard turned in his seat, frowning, obviously confused about why the young boy had suddenly entered his office unannounced. He recovered quickly, however, probably sensing that the son if the president could go wherever he pleased. “Sir. Hopefully future Vice President, I hear?”

 

_ An interesting thing to mention, _ Rufus thought, forcing himself not to react. It seemed that Lazard was very quick to compliment and give credit where it was due. He took note of that and answered. “Yes, it seems. Though Father is doing all he can to make me work for it, so it doesn't seem like nepotism is at work--and I'm all for it frankly.” The corners of his eyes twitched, and he smirked, tilting his head in a curious manner. “You on the other hand… You seem to have climbed through the ranks at an unusual pace. One  _ might _ think there was a certain sort of… favoritism at work.”

 

To his credit, Lazard didn’t react strongly as Rufus wished he would, but Rufus did notice his eyes widen a fraction in surprise. The man stayed relaxed, however, and brushed off the suggestion easily. “I don't know what you mean, sir. I’ve done my part to earn my place, and I was chosen as the most suitable candidate for the position. Surely this has been further exemplified by my work.” He gestured with his hand at the screens in front of him, where battle plans and training regiments were depicted.

 

Rufus did actually think that Lazard’s work in just one week was exemplary. He’d taken the inefficient schedules Heidegger had come up with, and made them work in a way that could accommodate almost twice as many SOLDIER operatives, if need be, He’d also corroborated with the highest level SOLDIER to form battle strategies and more effective training regimens. But Rufus wasn’t going to mention that he was actually impressed, no. He continued to smile impishly. “Oh, of course. Your work has been extraordinary--the last director couldn’t hold a candle to what you’ve done in a week.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You're the best we could come up with.”

 

Lazard tensed. Rufus noticed, and congratulated himself internally. “Of course,” Lazard said with obvious distaste. There was a way to get under his skin and Rufus had found it.

 

Rufus smiled amicably, again. “Well, I won’t keep you from you extraordinary work any longer. Good day, Director.” Rufus turned, and left Lazard to his own thoughts.

 

Rufus considered his mission complete. Lazard knew he was not one to be messed with. Rufus couldn’t care less if he was a bastard son of Father. It was only a means to get under Lazard’s skin and show him how capable Rufus was. And the glee Rufus felt resulted completely from the success of his mission, and not from upsetting someone who might be his half brother.

 

########

 

Tseng winced as his knee twinged again, and he rubbed it as the elevator doors closed in front of him. He had injured his knee in pursuit of a particular vandal the day before, by jumping off of a low rooftop and landing incorrectly. He hadn’t had it healed because he didn’t have any important missions assigned, and because joints were complicated parts of the anatomy and he preferred to have them heal naturally. If a joint healed wrong, it could mean the difference between being physically able and dying because one wasn’t fast enough. And so, he begrudgingly rested his leg by using the elevator for the first time in about ten years. It felt wrong, and slow. But he wasn’t a young, spry boy any longer, and he would have to be careful not to injure himself permanently in the future.

 

He was rewarded for doing the responsible thing by the elevator doors opening a few floors down to reveal a certain blonde-haired woman wearing her trademark red dress, carefully adjusted so that her cleavage spilled out from behind the crimson fabric.

 

Tseng’s heart dropped into his stomach. The one time he used the elevator, he was alone with Scarlet.

 

The woman immediately lit up at her great fortune, and sauntered inside, her hips swaying from side to side seductively. Tseng didn’t think there was a single time he’d ever seen her walk normally. “Hello there,” she said with a wolfish grin. “I never see  _ you _ around.”

 

Tseng swallowed, forcing himself not to show that he was both uncomfortable and intimidated. “Hello, miss.”

 

“ _ Hah,” _ Scarlet laughed. “Please, I have too much  _ experience _ to be called Miss. Madame will suffice.”

  
Tseng focused on breathing in and out, evenly. “Of course, madame.”   
  


Scarlet folded her arms, her breasts carefully supported beneath her forearms as she stood uncomfortably close to him. “So, what brings you to the elevator?” she asked, tone still dripping with seduction.

  
Tseng was used to telling the truth, but he knew that doing such a thing in a situation like this could mean his downfall. Under no circumstances was he to mention his injured leg, and how he was vulnerable at present. “Heading down to Records,” he said evenly.

  
Scarlet pouted her lips. “Such a long way. You'd better come back.” Then Tseng almost moved away as Scarlet slid right up against his side, her left arm resting on the small of his back. “It would be such a  _ pleasure _ to see you again.”

  
Tseng almost shuddered at the way the word ‘pleasure’ dripped with lust. He stared up at the numbers above the elevator doors, waiting for it to hit floor 45. What was Scarlet doing in the public elevator, anyway? She never seemed to leave the higher floors.

  
Suddenly the dread and mortification in his stomach roiled as Scarlet lowered her hand and groped his rear end. He actually flinched and looked down at her in horror, not fully believing that it was happening. Scarlet cooed up into his ear, “If you ever wanna have some fun, just let me know, okay?”

 

Tseng couldn’t breathe. This was actually happening. His mind was stuck in a perpetual loop of horror and disbelief, and he only snapped out of it when the elevator finally dinged. He flinched again, looking up at the lit-up number 45. “O-Of course. This is my stop. Good day miss, ah--madame.” He quickly pulled himself away from Scarlet and didn’t look back at her as he left the elevator.

 

His heart pounded in his chest and his face burned with humiliation. Now that he was out of the stressful situation he felt his mind clear, and he realized he hadn’t done a thing to deter the woman. He didn’t indicate to her that what she did was not in  _ any way _ wanted, or appropriate. He figured she just did those sort of things, but the thought of her actually trying it on  _ him _ he’d never considered, and so it had caught him completely off guard and he’d blanked on what to do about it.

 

He pushed his feelings of revulsion away with a shuddering breath, and told himself that if she ever tried it again, he’d be justified in using his intimidating persona to deter her. Perhaps it was time to learn that her habit of seducing her way into every situation wouldn’t work on people like him, and that he was in no way interested whatsoever. He shuddered, and ignored the twinge in his leg as he made his way to the records room to sift through boring files to find the one Veld had asked for. If he didn’t find it within thirty minutes, he’d call Reno down to help him as punishment for not filing his reports correctly,  _ again. _

 

########

 

Rufus had neglected to do his hair that morning. It flopped down onto his forehead and threatened to cover his eyes, and he didn’t give a single shit about it.

 

Father had reprimanded him for it, saying he looked like a moody teenager with no sense of proper hygiene. Rufus countered that he’d merely run out of hair product. That was mostly true--he’d thrown it out. He was tired of doing his hair when he didn’t really get anything out of it. Anyway, his hair felt nice and soft if there was no product in it. It was better that way.

 

He was starting to give up on ever impressing Father. None of his ideas were good enough. Not even his appearance was impressive. Father only noticed when he did things that were less than satisfactory, such as letting his hair fall flat into his face. Rufus had actually felt  _ better _ when Father had reprimanded him for it.

 

If it was going to feel good to let his hair fall, then why bother doing it all nice in the first place?

 

It wasn’t like he went out in public, really. Nobody was particularly interested in seeing the president’s son who had been shut in his entire life. He wasn’t important. He was just sitting around, waiting to become president one day. Nobody would care if he didn’t do his hair nicely.

 

The only way he could survive meetings anymore was reminding himself that he only had four more years until he was eighteen.

 

The neglect and frustration was driving him crazy. He would have figured Father would at least let him  _ speak _ sometimes. But every time he tried to get a word, in, someone would cut him off, going on with whatever pointless train of thought they were on, saying the same thing over and over only using different words. Finally, Rufus cut Heidegger off once and told him to stop talking about his stupid SOLDIER army that was never going to happen because Shinra couldn’t support it.

 

Father had admonished him, saying anyone who couldn’t do their hair right didn’t deserve to speak.

 

The bile rose in Rufus’ esophagus as rage built inside of him. He knew such stress wasn’t good for his blood pressure, but he was fourteen and he would survive. He’d only have to worry about that if he got old and fat and  _ stupid _ like Father, which was never going to happen. Rufus did everything in his power to never end up like his father, in any way. He was half tempted to dye his hair, just to spite him, but he couldn’t be bothered to maintain it afterwards.

 

Father was so concerned with his  _ hair _ that Rufus wasn’t allowed to speak. It was unreal.

 

Over the years, Rufus had compiled a list of things he would change, mostly to focus his rage into something constructive while trying to ignore the complete incompetence and irresponsibility of the other executives. Above all else, the sheer lack of foresight when it came to spending was an issue. If Rufus were in charge, he could cut spending by at least seventy-five percent, and invest in the company instead of throwing money at other corporations and advertising. 

 

Then there was the  _ internal _ spending travesty, which included issues such as plans being delayed and unfeasible, wasting resources, neglecting to train employees correctly, and countless other small things. Then there were big issues, such as that the science department had way too high a budget for the irrelevant experiments that came out of there; the space department shouldn’t have even  _ existed  _ in Rufus’ opinion; and finally, the pointless Weapons Development projects that weren’t even necessary, as the war in Wutai was a foolish endeavor. Shinra could simply give up and give Wutai back their independence, and it would make Shinra look  _ better. _ They didn’t need the resources that would come out of Wutai, and the war was only making the company look unsure of themselves. What Father  _ should _ have done was let Wutai live in the squalor of their feudalistic society. They could come begging for Shinra’s help when the rest of the world left them behind.

 

And even if Shinra couldn’t agree to live and let live, they could at least send in their entire military force in one fell swoop and end the conflict. From the way Hojo spouted hyperbole about his SOLDIER program, all they had to do was send in Sephiroth and the war would be over. So why didn’t they do so? Father didn’t want to spend money on sending the troops over there. What an idiot.

 

Father was proving time and again what an incompetent president he was becoming, and Rufus waited impatiently for the day when his skills could finally be put to use. He would make it so nobody could dispute his ideas, because to do so would only hurt the company. He would make Father see that the only person anyone needed to listen to was Rufus himself. Everyone else could stuff their ideas into Scarlet’s ridiculous cannon and blow them into the Lifestream, for all he cared.

 

########

 

Tseng frowned at Rufus’ limp hair with disapproval. He’d seen his charge in passing the last few days and hadn’t been able to comment, but hopefully it wasn’t too late to dissuade him from this course of action. Hopefully the teenager would listen to reason when Tseng told him he looked  _ ridiculous. _

 

He reached and tried to flip the boy’s hair out of his face and Rufus recoiled in outrage, his hand immediately flying up to his forehead to smooth his locks back down. “What are you doing?” he asked, almost sounding offended.

 

Tseng deadpanned at him. “Fixing your hair, sir.”

 

Rufus pouted and swiped at his hair again, flustered and indignant. “You aren't paid to fix my hair, you protect me from assassins!” 

 

Tseng’s mouth twitched in amusement. “What if I said I don’t like it, sir?”

 

Rufus pouted even harder from underneath his fine locks. “You aren't paid to like my hair, either! Stick to badgering Reno, you don’t have any authority over me.” He folded his arms with a huff, and Tseng couldn’t help but smile in secondhand embarrassment. 

 

Rufus led him to the stairwell (as he’d previously stated that he wanted to get more exercise, even if it was simply walking down a few flights of stairs, and Tseng of course couldn’t disapprove of that) and pulled open the door himself (Rufus was beginning to assert every bit of independence he could, and Tseng didn’t waste the energy on objecting), and they were met with the brunette Turk with the waist-length ponytail standing at the top of the stairs and looking at her phone.

 

Tseng blinked, then followed Rufus to go past her when Jet turned and put an arm out. “Wait wait, just a minute.”

 

Tseng frowned. “What are you doing, Jet?”

 

Jet grinned. “Just wait. Like seriously, less than a minute and you can go past.”

 

Rufus stood with his arms folded, slightly curious why a Turk would deny him passage, and Tseng stood behind him considering what could be happening when he heard the loud thundering sound of feet running up the stairs from below. He saw that Jet had her timer open, and he figured she was timing someone. He deadpanned, incredulously. “Who’s down there, Jet?”

 

“He’s trying to beat my record, and you don’t wanna be in the way when he comes rocketing up.”

 

“He’s that fast?” Tseng quirked an eyebrow.

 

Jet smirked. “He’s still a rookie. But hey, if he beats it, he beats it. I’ll just have to beat  _ his  _ record. And then we’ll fight to the death.” She said it with such nonchalance that anyone who didn’t know her would think she was completely serious.

 

Tseng’s mouth twitched, but he’d long given up on ever having a serious conversation with her, and he instead turned his attention to the thundering steps coming up the stairs. Finally they heard Reno’s desperate breaths as he climbed the last few flights, two steps at a time. Tseng raised his eyebrows, since he hadn’t tried that before because that would be  _ really painful. _

 

Reno almost collapsed on the floor of the top landing, falling to his knees and panting hard, looking up at Jet expectantly. “I get it?” he exhaled frantically.

 

Jet smirked and showed Reno her phone’s timer, which read 6:35:09. Reno cursed to himself and Jet laughed, “You gotta be faster that that, you can’t even beat  _ this _ slowpoke!” She gestured to Tseng, and Tseng sighed. He still hadn’t timed himself since the first time he set the record, and he still didn’t care.

 

“Too bad,” Rufus said. “I was hoping to have seen a new record set, Reno.” He grinned, and lightly kicked Reno’s side playfully with his shoe. Reno batted it away vindictively, pouting as he sat on the floor panting.

 

Tseng shook his head in disbelief. He thought with relief that Rufus was  _ still _ easier to handle than Reno was. He excused himself and Rufus while Jet taunted Reno some more, saying that if he didn’t beat her record soon  _ she _ would do it, again.

 

At least Reno was trying. Sort of. In his own way.

 

Reno was sixteen, (or almost sixteen, Tseng had no idea and didn’t care to look it up lest he show that he  _ cares _ ) and he still couldn’t tie a tie. Tseng confirmed it when he ambushed Reno once, stating that they were to go out and attend a public address as security, and Reno responded by standing there and sweating profusely. Then he asked Rude to help him with his tie. The bald young man shook his head, as if he’d done so multiple times before. Reno was sixteen and still couldn’t tie his tie.

 

Then there were other things, such as his problem with shoes. The first time Reno showed up wearing sneakers, Tseng stopped him in the hall.

 

“... Why are you wearing sneakers, Reno?”

 

Reno lifted a finger nervously. “Ah, well you see, ah…” he hesitated, obviously trying to think of an excuse before giving up. “I couldn't find my shoes.”

  
Tseng blinked at him, wondering if that  _ really _ was the truth, because he’d used that excuse with his tie.

  
“I'm totally serious this time. I'm not lying, I actually can't find them.”

  
“Reno,” Tseng said patiently.

 

“I would have been late to work, did you want that?”

  
Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Why can’t you find your shoes?”

  
Reno raised an eyebrow. “Because I looked and I can't find them...?”

  
“What makes it so hard to find your shoes?” Tseng asked, genuinely concerned. “You’re a  _ Turk, _ Reno.”

 

“Have you seen my house yo? It's a job all on its own.”   
  


Tseng was about to reprimand him some more when Rufus walked in with his guard hound. He had finally trained it to his own satisfaction and was able to take it out in public. Reno was greatly impressed by the specimen and stepped closer to get a look, but had to jump back when Dark Nation growled at him. Rufus laughed, then told her to back off and not kill Reno. And then, despite Tseng’s objection of Reno’s shoes, they went to go “hang out” because Reno had already finished his last “mission” and Veld had never given him a new one, and he was supposed to be  _ training _ in his spare time so Reno said that “protecting the future V-P is good enough training, yo” and Tseng let it slide because he didn’t have time to argue with him anymore.

 

When he did find time, Tseng figured he should talk to Veld about it. He was all for being easier on the recruits, but they also needed to be ready for the brutal work that lay ahead for each and every one of them. He brought Reno’s lack of discipline to Veld’s attention as delicately as possible, hoping it both spared Reno great physical torture but also illustrated the severity of the situation.

 

Veld waved his hand, uncaring. “I’ve given up on trying to change his ways. As long as he gets the job done, let him forget his tie if he wants to. The shoes, though, make him do the job in sneakers for a while and he’ll understand why he can’t forget them anymore.”

 

Tseng blinked. Veld was… letting Reno slide? “Sir, he looks sloppy. I thought we were supposed to uphold a certain standard as Turks.”

 

Veld nodded. “And he will uphold that standard. So far, he has performed his duties without fail, such is the way of the Turks. If his performance starts to fail, that is when we should be concerned.”

 

Tseng frowned, confused. “You are saying we shouldn’t penalize him for his appearance?”

 

Veld had that glint in his eye again, the one he used when Tseng knew he was thinking something Tseng didn’t understand. “If the Turks are going to perform better, we may need to adapt to new ways of thinking.” He dropped the mischievous expression to something more pondering. “And anyway, he seems to have made a name for himself. It would be difficult for him to be subtle with that hair of his. This way, even if he is sloppy, that is how he’ll be known and it won’t affect the rest of us.”

 

Tseng frowned, slightly perturbed by Veld’s reaction to it all. “Do you think that’s a good idea, sir? It sounds like we’re cutting him off from the rest of the group.”

 

Veld gave a sharp chuckle. “He’ll enjoy it. He wants to stand out, and so we’ll let him. Just tell him to do his job, and he’ll be fine.”

 

Tseng bowed, and left. If Veld was okay with it, then he couldn’t bother with it anymore. And Reno  _ was _ getting the job done, after all. He didn’t approve, but he could let it go as long as it didn’t cause any problems.

 

That, and if he didn’t set a horrible example for Rufus. Rufus was incredibly intelligent, and used good judgement most of the time, but he was highly impressionable by things that were outside his point of view. Reno shuddered to think about just what Reno was teaching him, and vowed to take every bodyguard job Rufus needed in the future.

 

########

 

Rufus rolled his eyes for the hundredth time in the yellow-lit dining room of the Shinra estate, stirring his soup absently as he fought to ignore his father at the other side of the table. The president had insisted that they have at least one meal together a week, and Rufus had agreed in the beginning because he’d actually thought of it as an opportunity to talk to his father in private. The president was rarely ever at home and was always working on some thing or another, so they rarely spoke, and Rufus had a great many ideas to run by his father. However over the years Rufus had begun to realize just how pointless it was to attempt any type of conversation with the man, and these weekly meetings had begun to grate on his nerves rather than offer anything constructive. Most of the time, they sat in silence while Rufus fumed internally and waited for the earliest moment that wouldn’t be considered rude to leave the table.

 

Rufus was done trying to explain his ideas to his father. For no explicable reason, the president only seemed interested in either Heidegger or Scarlet’s ideas, and everyone else could sod off. Rufus had resigned himself to wait patiently until he turned eighteen so that he would have at least  _ some _ shred of authority in the company, but it was becoming too much just to sit by and watch. Rufus wanted to change things  _ now. _ And Rufus finally found an affront so heinous that it forced him to act, albeit calmly at first.

 

The president had mentioned that the president of one of their biggest affiliates would be willing to merge his oil business with Shinra if their two families also merged. This meant that Rufus would marry the man’s daughter, and then they would cement the deal. The president had agreed without a single opposing thought.

 

When Rufus heard about the deal, he wanted to vomit. He hadn’t previously thought his father capable of such an unnecessary, illogical, and  _ stupid _ deal, but now he was no longer surprised by anything. He had lost all respect for the man.

 

The boy sighed finally, unable to take the silence at the dinner table. He may as well bring it up in a setting that was meant for such a thing. “I am wondering why I have to marry someone for this deal to go through, Father.”

 

The president didn’t seem fazed by the comment, and continued to look down at his dinner. “Those were the terms he outlined in our meeting, and I didn’t object to them.”

 

Rufus fought the urge to exhale angrily out of his nose, and answered calmly. He’d finally learned that getting visibly angry never got him anywhere. “You didn’t bother to offer something else in return?”

 

The president finally glanced up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “The man knows what he wants. He’s been thinking about merging our companies for years, and I don’t think he would change his mind if I brought it up to him.”

 

The muscles in Rufus’ jaw rippled as he clenched back his biting reply, and made it sound less angry and indignant. “If you have to marry off your  _ son _ to get someone to invest in your company, maybe you're not doing something right.”

 

The president snorted, but frowned as if offended. “What do you know of these things? This is precisely why I didn’t ask you. You wouldn’t understand the value of merging our families as well.”

 

Rufus gave an irritated  _ hmph _ in response, letting the matter fall flat. Talking to his father wasn’t going to do anything. He would have to act on his own if he was going to have any say in this arrangement. And for Gaia’s sake, he was only fourteen. He understood the concept of arranged marriages, but there was no cultural backing for him marrying someone. His father simply wanted him married and gone.

 

“You know, you should start hanging around with the girls at these functions,” the president said with a curious tone. “You're fourteen, and you should be interested. People might get the wrong idea.”

 

Rufus squinted. Were they actually having this conversation? Was his father seriously implying what Rufus thought he was? “And what is the wrong idea?” Rufus said calmly, playing along.

 

The president kept his gaze looking down at his meal. “They might think you’re not interested.”

 

There it was. There was the implication. Rufus saw the opportunity and jumped for it. “Not interested in girls, you mean?” he asked, innocently. “I had no idea that was a  _ wrong _ idea.”

 

The president shifted, obviously uncomfortable. Rufus didn’t care what his father thought about those words. Rufus didn’t have that kind of interest in  _ anyone, _ regardless of gender, but he enjoyed watching his father squirm at the idea of his own son being untraditional. The president spoke calmly however, as if he didn’t want to seem discriminatory of anyone’s sexual or romantic orientation, to his credit. “It is if you want to leave a legacy.”

 

Rufus scoffed. It was time to go in for the kill. “It wouldn't even matter who I marry in that case, if I'm to go by your example.”

 

The president immediately burned red with fury, and slapped his hand down on the table. “You insolent little  _ shit,” _ he said, his gaze boring a hole through his son’s skull.

 

Rufus didn’t even blink. He knew exactly what he’d said, and he wasn’t going to back down from it. It was the truth. He could marry a girl simply to leave a legacy, but he could mess around with whomever he wanted, if he were to follow his father’s actions. He wouldn’t, but Father didn’t know that. He didn’t even smirk, though he wanted to  _ badly. _

 

Finally the president couldn’t take it anymore. “Get out. Stay in your room until tomorrow.”

 

Rufus sneered at him, finally letting his pure abhorrence show through. “Gladly,” he said with as much disdain as possible, then he got up and left without another word. He went straight to his room to plan. This deal couldn’t go through. He wouldn’t let it.

 

#########

 

Rufus was to meet the girl today. They wouldn’t be married right away, of course, as they were much too young, (though Rufus suspected that his father would have agreed if  _ that _ were in the terms, as well) but they would meet each other and begin the courtship process early. Rufus was to be a perfect gentleman and attempt to win her affections.

 

Rufus wasn’t against being nice to a lady. He was a perfect gentleman to people were respectful in return. He was against the entire concept of a ‘date’, however, and longed for his free time back. He would rather study than attempt to woo a romantic partner.

 

However, he would have to deal with it in order for his plan to work. He supposed a night of entertaining a girl was a paltry sacrifice in comparison to what he would lose if he  _ didn’t _ do this. He put on his best smile and prepared to meet his apparent betrothed. However he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about him, so he continued to voice his unbridled opinions, even if they were offensive. He was a gentleman to the girl, but he wasn’t going to hide his entire personality from her. Maybe it would turn her off and they could cut to the chase immediately.

 

Her name was Lily. A boringly unoriginal name, he thought. She was nice enough looking, with her delicate face and fine blond hair styled in loose curls that fell around her cream-colored shoulders. Rufus thought they looked too much alike, however. Not only was he not interested, but aesthetically they wouldn’t look pleasing together.

 

She was too shy. She seemed afraid to initiate conversation, something he found boring. She would do whatever he said, the perfect wife. Rufus was disgusted by this, but Lily was most likely a product of her upbringing, and it wasn’t her fault. If Rufus  _ were _ interested, he would have done his part to make her happy, and give her a safe environment for her to form opinions and voice them accordingly. But he wasn’t interested. And he suspected that she wasn’t, either, even if her upbringing had completely stripped all free will from her.

 

He carefully watched her throughout the night, during the stage performance he took her to see, ( _ Loveless,  _ again? That seemed to be the only thing playing at all, ever.) and then during their dinner, where he asked her many questions that she answered with vague and meek replies. He wanted to know more about her, but she was making it seem like there  _ was _ nothing more to her. Rufus almost lamented what a tragedy it would be for a person to live a life that was so thoroughly boring, but he sensed that she was deliberately hiding things about herself in order for the night to go smoothly--as such was the nature of her upbringing, he suspected.

 

She was a sweet girl, who only did things with the best interest in mind. She kept her secret opinions as such, and never did anything to initiate conflict. And when conflict reared its ugly head, she stayed quiet and took whatever was thrown her way. It was her duty as a female in a world of politics and meaningless tradition. She didn’t even seem bothered by Rufus’ sarcastic and sometimes abrasive comments. And finally Rufus found what he was looking for when he asked her what she thought of him, as a person. She came up with many compliments, sure, but Rufus could tell that it was forced--and Rufus didn’t think it was because she didn’t like him. His plan was falling into place.

 

Rufus was finally able to release Tseng from his babysitting duty once they returned to Shinra Headquarters, and Rufus escorted Lily back up to her guest room. He knew it wasn’t appropriate, but he was certain she would trust him with what he asked next. “Could we speak privately in your room, for a minute? There are things I wanted to say while my bodyguard isn’t around.”

 

Lily hesitated for merely a fraction of a second before nodding. “Of course,” she said in her frail, airy voice. That was another thing Rufus didn’t like about her. Her voice sounded like she’d never spoken in her life. She probably wasn’t allowed to. He stepped over the threshold into Lily’s room and she shut the door behind them.

 

It was a testament to how skewed the girl’s sense of self-preservation was that when he asked if they could sit on her bed she simply nodded. She trusted him completely, and didn’t think anything he asked was unreasonable or inappropriate. Rufus almost felt badly for what he was about to do.

 

He started off casually, because he didn’t want to upset her right away and have her leave before hearing what he had to say. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

 

Lily nodded meekly. “Yes, I did. It was everything I thought it would be.”

 

Rufus nodded, though he didn’t believe her. “That’s good. It would have been regrettable if you didn’t get anything out of it.” Then he sighed and turned to her, dropping the act completely. “I’m going to tell you the truth,” he said with a blank expression. “For me, it was a hassle. There wasn’t a single aspect of tonight that I enjoyed, least of all you. You’re boring and complacent, and I would never consider marrying you.”

 

Lily’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and fear, and Rufus went on to hopefully alleviate her discomfort. “And as for you, I know you don’t like me either. You would be miserable with my constantly negative attitude.” He paused for a moment and let that settle in before asking, “So my question is, why on this godsforsaken Planet should we ever get married?”

 

Lily was obviously taken off guard at this revelation, but she seemed to be taking it well. It was her duty as a woman, after all, to stay calm when conflict hit. She raised her head and faced him hesitantly. “Even if I didn't like you at first, I would want to make the best out of this situation. There are many benefits from our marriage.” She hesitated, and wrung her hands together nervously. “I think that if two people try, they can even learn to love each other. You're very handsome, and smart, and even if you sound rude I know you're just being honest with yourself and others.”

 

Rufus scoffed, not entirely believing the last part. “I’m mean. I’m unnecessarily malicious so as to weed out anyone whom I wouldn’t enjoy talking to.”

 

“So anyone who is repelled by your bluntness is unworthy of your time?” Lily asked, feeling brave. “I was confused at first, but it doesn't bother me.”

 

Rufus frowned, not giving up. “You agree with everything I say. It's off-putting.”

 

“Not on this, apparently,” Lily cut in.

 

Rufus’ eyebrow quirked involuntarily. Lily had grown a certain assertiveness that she only used with him. “You may be brave enough to voice your opinions to me, but that’s your only appealing quality. You’re weak, easily manipulated, and shy. You won’t reach out and take what you deserve.”

 

Lily looked to be growing upset. Did she actually feel passion about this after all? “I want you,” she said. “I’m reaching out and telling you this. You can be a good person, I can see it!”

 

Rufus shook his head. “You hate me. I’m a spoiled brat, I’m arrogant, and I’m selfish. Everyone is beneath me, including you.”

 

“You treated your bodyguard nicely,” Lily said calmly. “You seemed to care a great deal for him. You treat those you love with respect and consideration.”

 

Rufus almost hesitated. He waved the comment off, not wanting Lily to see through his argument. “How I treat my bodyguard is irrelevant, as is my argument for how much you hate me, it seems. There's another boy, isn't there?”

 

Lily froze, and Rufus knew he had been correct all along. After a few seconds Lily finally nodded, looking defeated. She couldn’t hide anything from the perceptive teen.

 

Rufus nodded. “Perhaps his father’s company wasn’t what your father is looking for? Why marry him when you can marry the son of Shinra Incorporated?”

 

Lily’s eyebrows drew together in discomfort. Having this conversation meant she had to admit she had secret desires. Rufus went on making inferences, since he knew she preferred to listen rather than speak. “But his father’s company isn't that far below mine. He just simply isn't number one. And if something were to convince your father that us getting married is a mistake, then perhaps your father would agree to have you marry the boy you love?”

 

Lily was still, and she stared at the floor and dropped all pretenses of wanting him above all else. She wouldn't look at him, but her mind was racing. She was considering deceiving her father for the first time ever, probably. She finally spoke. “Do you have an idea?”

 

Rufus nodded. “I do. And you have to agree with it, no matter what it is. But I promise, it will make your father call off the marriage.”

 

Lily finally looked up, this time nervous. “What are you planning to do? Will I get in trouble?”

 

“You won't. You will agree to whatever I wish, no matter what it is. Are you prepared for that?”

 

The girl’s eyes widened in fear. “Anything? Are you going to hurt me?”

 

Rufus didn't bat an eye, and only pressed harder. “Are you willing to do anything to return to the boy you love?”

 

Lily sat on her bed in fear, her slender fingers pulling at her dress in her lap. Rufus frowned, then gave the ultimatum. “Choose now. I won't ask again.”

 

“Yes!” Lily cried. Her tears glinted in the pale lamplight, threatening to drop from her eyes. “I love him… and he loves me... Father doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, though.”

 

Rufus sat back and placed his hands on his knees, preparing himself. “Then, there's really only one way to get out of this for sure.” He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then pulled his hand back and struck her across the face.

 

Lily cried out and held her cheek, and gave him a look of complete betrayal. It was only to be expected; Lily was probably wondering why his actions didn’t match up with her perception of him. Rufus was harsh and rude, but nothing he did suggested that he could ever be violent.

 

Rufus kept his gaze hard and unflinching. “If your father were to change his mind about your future husband--for example, if he suddenly believed that I would hurt you--he would call off the marriage, wouldn't he?”

 

A tear rolled down Lily’s face, but she nodded. Rufus steeled himself, then reached and pulled her cardigan off her shoulders. Lily flinched and looked up at him, horrified. He pulled it off all the way, then threw it at the wall, then went to work tearing at her dress and messing up her hair.

 

Lily cringed and tried to pull away. “What are you doing!?” she cried.

 

Rufus didn’t bat an eye, didn’t flinch a muscle. “I’m making it look like I did something unforgivable.” Then he knelt down and tore at the slit in her dress.

 

“That!?” she asked, horrified to even  _ think _ that Rufus would do such a thing as assault her. She couldn't even say the word. Then again, neither could Rufus himself at the moment.

 

He stood up and stared at her with an unreadable expression for a moment. “You can say I tried, or I did, or whatever you like.” He looked down at her necklace, and an idea struck him. He grabbed hold of the fragile cord of glass beads and ripped it off Lily’s neck. The beads fell and scattered onto the floor, and Lily cried out in horror. She fell to the floor and tried to pick up the tiny beads, but it would have taken a very long time to find them all and Rufus dropped the remaining cord and pendant in front of her, causing the fragile crystal to break in half against the carpet.

 

"I'm sorry, you said it was very important to you. Now you won't have to pretend to hate me."

 

"You're a monster!” Lily cried. “I told you it was my mother’s! You didn’t even think, you just--”

 

"You hate me, don't you? Now your father will hate me too, and the marriage will be called off. Now, go tell your father what I did to you, while the event is still fresh in your mind. While you still hate..."

 

Lily stood suddenly and ran out of the room, clutching the cord with the broken pendant to her chest.

 

Rufus watched her leave, relieved for a moment. It was over. He wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore.

 

Then the gravity if the situation hit him. He hadn’t cared about the consequences in the moment or during his planning, for fear of losing his nerve. He knew what kind of trouble he was getting into, but he hadn’t really considered what people would think of him as a result. He was used to people ignoring him in account of his age, or thinking he was rude and disrespectful, but this was an entirely new level of wicked. He pulled out his phone and called Tseng, slightly panicked.

 

Tseng’s voice was a welcome relief on the other end.  _ “Sir, are you finished already?” _

 

Rufus took a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “Can you come here? I need to talk to you.”

 

Tseng paused, probably analyzing the tone of Rufus’ voice.  _ “What happened?” _

 

Rufus clenched his jaw. He’d just say it. “I’m about to get in a load of trouble. I just wanted to tell you, before you learn from someone else.”

 

Tseng didn’t answer right away, as if he were mulling over those words, but when he did speak it was with concern and suspicion.  _ “What did you do?” _

 

Rufus’ stomach dropped at Tseng’s tone. Did he actually suspect he’d done something horrible? Rufus hadn’t wanted that as an outcome and he immediately looked to rectify that. “I framed myself. Shit… I went all out, too. Lily’s father is going to hate me.”

 

_ “Framed?” _ Tseng asked, sounding more skeptical than suspicious at least.  _ “I’ll be right there. You’re still in her room?” _

 

“Yeah,” Rufus said, almost shaking. “Hurry.”

 

He hung up and held onto his phone with a death grip, feeling worse as time went on. He’d never actually felt  _ scared _ before. It wasn’t like the thrill he’d felt when he’d run around the city with Reno, either. He was trembling uncontrollably and there was a nagging feeling of doom looming over him and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d calmly calculated every possible outcome and accepted the consequences, so why was he suddenly scared?

 

He’d just have to deal with it before his father inevitably called him in to talk to him, and issue him his punishment.

 

########

 

Rufus had sounded scared.

 

Tseng was always in a certain state of worry when it came to Rufus, in a way that he could never outline to anyone (both for fear of showing that he felt things, and that he couldn’t actually explain it to himself). Tseng would probably never know what it was like to have a son, but the way he cared for Rufus was probably akin to having a younger brother of some sort. So when he heard Rufus speaking with an anxious tone over the phone, his senses went into overdrive.

 

Though he did care for the boy immensely, Tseng had accepted that Rufus was growing into a rebellious and largely independent individual, and that he probably kept things secret from his bodyguard. Tseng didn’t feel as close as he had to Rufus in the past, but he had calmly accepted it as a symptom of the dreaded adolescence, and he surprised himself when he grew upset at Rufus’ words.

 

He wasn't supposed to take it personally. It wasn’t his job to care, or to worry that Rufus was going down a path that would hurt him or others. Tseng calmed himself, and forced his worries aside in favor of cold objectivity to handle this situation. Rufus had called to him for help, and the boy probably needed someone with a level head.

 

Tseng didn’t like how suspicious he’d been when Rufus had said he was in trouble, though. He was at a point where he couldn’t guess what Rufus would do next, and the idea that he’d do something incredibly stupid or unforgivable was actually an option. Tseng had responded coldly and with suspicion, and he was slightly relieved when Rufus said that he’d merely framed himself. That was where they were, apparently; it was relieving to hear that Rufus had framed himself instead of actually doing something horrible. Tseng was still displeased, and very worried about what kind of trouble Rufus had gotten himself into.

 

Tseng knocked on the door to their guest’s room and entered without waiting for permission, figuring in this situation it was unnecessary. “What happened, sir?” he asked, unable to keep the severity from his voice.

 

Rufus sat on the bed with his hands linked together, twiddling his thumbs, and he looked up at Tseng with a somewhat nervous expression. “I made it look like,” he cringed visibly, then continued, “It looks like I… took advantage of her.”

 

Tseng frowned in disbelief, and then slight disgust. He pushed it from his voice however, since Rufus didn’t  _ actually  _ do anything, apparently. “Why would you want people to think that?”

 

Rufus took a slow breath through his nose, seemingly much more calm than he was on the phone only a minute earlier. “I needed her father to hate me and call off the wedding. I figured it was the worst thing I could possibly do to her, and therefore it was sure to succeed.”

 

Tseng shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing, but at the same time a part of him was not surprised that the underhanded teen was capable of such a plot. “Sir,” he began with a firm tone. “I understand that you didn’t want to marry the girl, but--this will ruin relations between the two companies  _ forever.” _

 

“That was sort of the idea,” Rufus said flatly.

 

Tseng blinked, and then the whole idea hit him. Anger and indignation flared up inside him, but he pushed it back down because it wasn’t his job to get angry at stupid decisions his charge made. “Did you do this to hurt your father, sir?” he said with a deep frown. “You pulled that innocent girl into your quarrel with your father?”

 

Rufus still wouldn’t look up at him. “It was to save her,” he said, almost thoughtful now.

 

Tseng blinked  _ again _ , still feeling like he was missing something. "What?"

 

Rufus twiddled his thumbs some more. "Now, she won't have to marry me. She'll be saved from the hell she nearly fell into."

 

Just when Tseng thought he understood everything, Rufus threw another curveball at him. So, it wasn’t entirely to hurt the president? Rufus seemed concerned about the girl, now. "I don't understand..." Tseng suddenly realized with embarrassment that he hadn’t been saying ‘sir’ as much, on account of being upset and angry, and he hoped that Rufus hadn’t noticed.

 

"If she had married me, she would have killed herself from all the misery and suffering she would have endured,” Rufus said. “I would never love her, and she wouldn't be able to accept that she couldn’t change me. She would die for nothing.”

 

Tseng was torn. Every time he thought Rufus might actually care about something, genuinely, he displayed apathy and pessimism. And then when Tseng was sure that the boy was only concerned about himself, he showed care for another person. He said that he would never have loved the girl, and Tseng couldn’t decide if that was correct or not. Rufus was impossible to predict. "Sir…” Tseng said lamely, falling back into his default mode of not commenting.

 

"I don’t have the power to change this company, yet, but I can at least save a girl from a miserable existence with me,” Rufus said. “I don't mind being the bad guy if it means I can put a stop to one of my father’s idiotic plans.” He sneered towards the end of the sentence, snapping out of his quiet disposition finally.

 

And there Rufus went, acting like ruining his father’s plans was more important than anything. The most likely explanation that Tseng could think of was that Rufus was becoming a very complicated individual, who was torn between doing the right thing and ruining his father’s plans. Tseng shifted uncomfortably, realizing that even though Rufus had confided in him, he had to do his job and inform the president of this development.

 

"Sir… I have to tell your father what you told me."

 

Rufus shook his head, still looking down at his twiddling thumbs. “No need, I’m going to tell him myself.” When Tseng looked at him with confusion, he added, “I never planned on making Father think I was a monster forever. But when I tell him the truth, whom will Lily’s father believe--me, or his beloved daughter?” Rufus smirked.

 

Tseng’s insides clenched in discomfort at the idea that Rufus was happy to be so manipulative. Rufus went on. “I’ve made myself look horrible, I know.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “Hopefully the look on Father’s face when I tell him will make it all worth it.”

 

Tseng had gone into this conversation angry and upset, but all he felt now was unnerved and anxious. He didn’t like not being able to predict Rufus’ actions anymore.

 

Just then, Tseng’s phone went off and he answered it immediately, if only to have something to do with his hands despite the fear of who was on the other end. “Sir,” he said without inflection.

 

It was Veld. The president had demanded Veld contact the Turk who was in charge of Rufus, then have them bring him directly to his office. Apparently, the president still couldn’t remember Tseng’s name or extension number, despite him being the sole official bodyguard for Rufus for ten years. “Yes sir, I’m with him now. Understood.” He hung up, ignoring the growing sense of dread in his gut.

 

Rufus was looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, apparently having calmed himself completely. “Father’s orders, I presume?”

 

Tseng nodded. “He wants to speak to you.”

 

Rufus let out a low breath and stood up, brushing down the front of his jacket. "It's showtime," he said with his usual smirk, and led the way out to the hall and up to his father’s office.

 

########

 

From the way the president was glowering at his son one would have thought he'd encountered his mortal enemy, and was visualizing all the things he was going to do to them. Rufus himself was unfazed, and stood with his arms crossed and a cool expression on his face. Tseng stood anxiously awaiting the boy’s fate, unable to predict the outcome. He was at a complete loss, so he called upon his Turk professionalism to remove himself from the situation.

 

The president finally spoke, with barely restrained fury. “What the  _ fuck _ did you do?”

 

Rufus was either a flawless actor, or he was actually as cocky as he looked. It was impossible to tell anymore. Rufus smirked. “What did the girl say I did?” he said, as if he knew full well what Lily had said about him, but didn’t care.

 

The president blew up in anger, as was to be expected when faced with a shocking thing such as his son not caring if he’d assaulted a girl or not. “I can’t  _ fucking _ believe you, you actually--!?” The president was having trouble finding words for this atrocity. “What’s  _ wrong _ with you that made you think this is okay? Did you think I would bail you out, because I’m the president? Didn’t I teach you better than this!?”

 

Rufus gave a spiteful glare in return. “On the contrary, I acted exactly the way you've taught me to,  _ father _ . I saw something I wanted, and used my power to get it. I didn't let anybody take advantage of me. The girl simply wanted to marry me to steal power from me, is that not correct?”

 

President sat back in his chair, stunned into silence for a moment. His mouth dropped open as he gathered his thoughts. “What—no, you imbecile! I planned this marriage to set you up for a life of ease and affection. She would have been perfect for you, and you ruined it! Her father will never allow the marriage now, let alone continue business with us! He dissolved our partnership. This merge is  _ ruined _ because of you, and he's gonna tell everyone he knows what a disgusting piece of shit you are!”

 

Rufus’ shoulders were shaking even before his father had stopped talking, and when the president finally hit the cadence of his last phrase Rufus let out a chuckle.

 

The president actually stood up and walked around to his son in anger. He got right up in Rufus’ face and barked, “What is so funny!?”

 

Rufus stifled his chuckle and lifted his gaze slightly. He was almost as tall as the president at only fourteen years--probably something he reveled in constantly. “You don't even care about the girl,” Rufus said amusedly. “All you care about is the money.”

 

A sharp  _ slap  _ rang out and Rufus’ head jerked to the side, but Rufus didn’t flinch. The president’s breaths were labored and furious. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?” he yelled, his rage finally unleashed in full. “You assaulted a defenseless girl, and you have the gall to judge  _ me!? _ You took this perfect, honest, beautiful girl, abused her, and threw her away like she was nothing!”

 

“It's no different than what you do to your own mistresses,” Rufus said with a venomous tone, looking back up at his father with his cheek stinging and red. “If you love her so much, marry her yourself. Then you can replace me with a son you're actually proud of.”

 

Tseng didn’t even have time to wrap his mind around Rufus last statement because the president was pulling his hand back again. “You sack of shit!” he yelled, before slamming his fist into Rufus’ cheek.

 

Rufus stumbled under the force of the punch, not even trying to defend himself. Tseng could only stand and watch as his charge was being assaulted, because the assailant was his own  _ employer _ and  _ what was he supposed to do!? _ And then Rufus was laughing again, and Tseng’s gut clenched, fearing how much more Rufus would goad his father into violence. Should he step in and tell the truth? Rufus had said he would take care of it, but it was Tseng’s duty to reveal new information as it came. Would he already be punished for not speaking of it immediately?

 

Either way, he didn’t have time to act. “What’s so funny!?” the president yelled again, his breaths harsh and his face turning as red as his suit.

 

Rufus calmed himself again, and gave his father a determined look. “I don't know what's worse, the fact that you actually believe the blatant lies I tell you, or the fact that you actually think I would do those things.”

 

The president grabbed him by the front of his suit, jostling him, then yelled in his face. “What the fuck are you talking about!?”

 

Rufus had turned his face in disgust at the close proximity of either his father’s breath or his angry spittle. “I never touched her. She's fine. Well, I did slap her face for effect and to make her cry, but she's fine.” His eyes narrowed, and he looked directly into his father’s eyes, speaking with overbearing malice. “Now she'll never have to marry a disgusting piece of shit like me, and your business deal is ruined--”

 

The president punched him again, as hard as he could, sending him to the floor finally. Rufus tried to fall in a way that wouldn't injure his wrist or his shoulder, Tseng noticed, but it did little for the violent kick to the abdomen the president gave him. Rufus gave a sharp, pained cough at the kick, and immediately covered his head with one arm and his abdomen with the other.

 

“You little shit!” the president roared, kicking Rufus again as hard as he could. “You did this just to ruin my business deal, you fucking piece of shit!” He used his great mass to rear back and kick harder, over and over, not caring where each blow landed. “I should fucking kill you, you ungrateful son of a bitch!”

 

Tseng knew how to judge the velocity of a blow and how much damage it could cause, and if the president hit Rufus any more it wouldn’t be good. He tried to justify running in to stop him as merely keeping the president from doing something he would regret, and protecting the company's interests as a Turk would do--but he didn't care about anything in that moment other than saving Rufus from being beaten to death. He rushed over and hooked his arms underneath the president's from behind, hoping he wouldn’t be executed for interfering. “Mr. President, please! You'll kill him!”

 

The president snarled at him. “Let go of me you sack of  _ shit _ , I'm gonna kill him!”

 

“Sir, you're angry, please calm down!” Tseng pleaded. He tried not to sound like he was giving an order, because that was practically treason.

 

“LET GO OF ME! GET OFF OF ME OR I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD!”

 

Tseng actually flinched, and he believed the man. It was solely out of fear that he let go of the president, and only hoped that he would stop kicking Rufus. If he didn’t, then Tseng was prepared to take the blows for the boy.

 

The president didn’t hit Rufus again, but reeled on Tseng with a crazed look in his eyes. “I'll have your fucking job, you insubordinate fuck!” he roared, then bent over and out his hands on his knees while he breathed laboriously.

 

Tseng stood rooted to the spot in fear for his own life, but he soon brushed it off as merely an angry tirade that was only fifty percent likely to get him executed. Then he rushed over and knelt next to Rufus’ trembling form once he thought the president wouldn’t have him killed merely for moving. “Sir, are you okay?” he asked, quietly.

 

Rufus’ eyes were screwed shut in pain and he hissed, his breaths shuddering as he trembled. One of the punches had split open his eyebrow and leaked blood down into his eye, and tears involuntarily streamed down his face. He cracked open his other eye and tried to push himself up with one arm. “Help me stand,” he said quietly, with a strained voice.

 

Tseng took hold of the arm Rufus wasn’t cradling against his body and helped him stand, and put another hand on his back to steady him. He looked up at the president, hoping the man had calmed enough to allow them to leave. “Mr. President, he needs to see a doctor.”

 

The president jerked his head back up, a furious expression on his face still. “A wretch like you doesn't deserve the luxuries of being my son,” he said with a venomous tone. “You’ve disappointed me for the last time.”

 

Rufus stared up at his father blankly through his good eye, and Tseng winced. Even now, the president was saying Rufus was a disappointment. Tseng couldn’t believe it.

 

“You'll get no more funding from me,” the president continued, “and your position as Vice President is even less ensured than before. You'll have to work for it, and be elected just like everyone else.” He looked to Tseng with just as much venom. “Get him out of here.”

 

“Sir,” Tseng said with a slight bow (if only to keep his charade of respect up so that he wouldn’t be executed later) and carefully led the boy out of the office. He quietly asked if Rufus could make it down the stairs and the boy said he could. He was in a lot of pain, but he could still function it seemed. Rufus wouldn’t be bested by something as ridiculous as a punishment from his father.

 

Tseng was still wrapping his mind around Rufus’ motivations for this charade. He’d fooled his father to save the girl, most likely. But other ulterior motives involved ruining one of his father’s most important business deals, seemingly because Rufus believed anything his father approved of was stupid and should never be allowed to occur. But then even  _ more _ ulterior than that was Rufus’ complete and unflinching hatred towards the man for ignoring his ideas for years. He even went as far as to goad the president into violence, and then  _ keep _ goading the man until he was on the floor. He didn’t care if he got hurt, as long as he made his father angry.

 

Rufus had said before that nobody would care if he died. And now he’d said that the president should replace Rufus with a son he was actually proud of. Tseng couldn’t wrap his mind around how wrong it sounded coming out of the boy’s mouth. Rufus was confident, intelligent, and righteous, and at the same time he showed great care for things that he deemed important. His passion was unmatched by anyone Tseng had ever met. And yet, Rufus believed that nothing he ever did was worthy of praise from his father, and had kept these feelings hidden for years, even from Tseng. After the first time it was mentioned, Tseng had attempted to put it out of his mind and call it a singular occurrence, but many of Rufus’ subsequent actions could be explained by this. He believed that nobody would care if he died.

 

Tseng couldn’t speak for the president, but he knew that at least one person would care a great deal. Tseng didn’t want to think about that, and instead focused on rushing Rufus to the infirmary. He held Rufus upright in the elevator and tried to ascertain what his injuries were. “How are you, sir? Where does it hurt?”

 

Rufus was holding back any further tears or whimpers. “I think my arm is broken,” he said with his strained voice.

 

Tseng frowned. Rufus didn’t want pity, so he tried something else. “Better that than your head, or your ribs. Good blocking.”

 

Rufus chuckled weakly at that. “I never thought I'd have to use my skills against my father,” he said with a weak smirk. But the way he spoke next was almost…  _ excited. _ “But seeing him come unhinged like that... was the greatest pleasure I've ever felt.”

 

Tseng almost pulled away, unnerved by the boy’s atypical reactions. He didn’t want to call it creepy, but that’s how it felt.

 

Rufus noticed Tseng’s discomfort. “Don't worry, I don't plan on doing that again. I'll just remember his face…”

 

The elevator dinged and opened on the medical floor, and Tseng guided Rufus out into the infirmary without another word on the subject. He called to a doctor to get their attention, and one ran over after seeing the state Rufus was in. “This is the president’s son,” Tseng said with a serious expression. “Make sure he gets the best treatment.”

 

The doctor nodded, and called for another doctor, pulling Rufus away to be treated. The boy realized finally that he was being taken away, and that his bodyguard wouldn’t be by his side any longer, and the look he gave Tseng when he looked back almost broke his heart. “Don’t leave!” Rufus pleaded weakly.

 

Tseng knew he had to report back to Veld, about the  _ entire _ incident, but… surely he could stay here for a little longer? “I’ll be here!” he called, then went to sit in the waiting room.

 

########

 

After about an hour and a half, a nurse came in and told him that Rufus was settled and could see visitors--and that Rufus had demanded to see Tseng and no one else. He’d probably threatened the poor man with his job as well, but Tseng didn’t comment. He followed the nurse back to one of the private rooms and went inside.

 

Rufus was sitting in a hospital bed with a cast on his arm and a bandage over his left eyebrow, but otherwise he looked okay. His left eye was slightly swollen, but it would go down soon enough, and Rufus’ split lip would heal in a few days. There was no IV hooked up to his arm, so Tseng assumed that he wasn’t seriously injured and had no internal damage from that vicious kick-fest.

 

Rufus forced his eyes open and turned his head when Tseng entered. “You said the best treatment,” he said dryly, his voice soft. “That means they won’t give me any Cures.”

 

Tseng gave a sympathetic smile as he sat down in the chair next to the bed. “Natural healing is best.”

 

“You field agents don't seem to care about that,” Rufus pouted.

 

“We don't have that luxury,” Tseng said matter-of-factly.

 

Rufus frowned. “I can't move my arm at all. I can't even flex my fingers a little. Hurts like a bitch.”

 

Tseng frowned, twiddling his thumbs nervously. “Sir, your father isn't a fighter, but he could have killed you.”

 

Rufus deadpanned at him. “I am aware of how being beaten to death works. I know. That's why I blocked.”

 

Tseng raised an eyebrow. “Even though you knew that it would probably break your arm?”

 

“It wasn't really a conscious thought,” Rufus said. Then he looked up and smirked, his eyes half-lidded from lethargy. “How angry is Father?”

 

Tseng frowned, concerned. Rufus was still only concerned with making his father angry. “I don't know. I've been here the whole time.”

 

Rufus raised an eyebrow. “Veld isn't mad that you stayed?”

 

Tseng shifted uncomfortably. “He doesn't know, yet.”

 

Rufus smirked at him. “I'm surprised at you, not reporting to your superior!”

 

Tseng frowned, unable to meet his gaze. “He would have called me back to work... I wanted to make sure you were alright, sir.”

 

Rufus’ smirk faltered, then, and he looked down at his lap. He hesitated before speaking again, very softly. “Thank you.”

 

Tseng nodded. “Of course, sir.”

 

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Rufus leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “... Fuck.”

 

Tseng tried not to cringe at the boy’s expletives. Though he only seemed comfortable enough using them around him, so he couldn’t complain that Rufus was using them too much. “Sir?”

 

Rufus relaxed with his eyes shut as he spoke. “I just realized…. If I had brought Dark Nation with me, she would have killed Father.”

 

Tseng felt his insides clench again, at how twisted some of Rufus’ statements sounded. Was he actually thinking about… wanting his father dead?

 

“Just a thought…” Rufus said with nonchalance. Tseng didn’t really know what to say to that, but he didn’t want to ignore Rufus’ questionable statements anymore. They weren’t superficial thoughts, born simply of teenage angst. Rufus was hiding this side of himself, and Tseng was concerned about it. He’d done his best to guide the boy, but doing any more would be inappropriate and possibly a breach of his contract. The only thing to do was keep an eye on Rufus, and keep offering support when he thought Rufus needed it.

 

Rufus sighed. “Father's going to ground me. I won't get to leave the house for a month.”

 

Tseng pushed his darker thoughts away in favor of lighter conversation again. “Probably so no one sees your injured arm, sir.”

 

Rufus gave a soft chuckle. “Good. I'll be an enigma forever. No one will see me bleed or cry.”

 

Tseng didn’t know what to say to that either. Rufus’ thoughts were all over the place, it seemed. He supposed it would be good for Rufus to be away from the public while he healed, though. Having an image of invulnerability was power in itself.

 

The conversation was lighter until Tseng absolutely  _ had _ to go report to veld. Rufus enjoyed picking on his father’s elementary insults, saying he could do better when he was ten. Tseng secretly agreed.

 

########

 

They stood in the president’s office once again, a few days later. Rufus’ face looked almost healed, like no one would notice he’d had an injury unless they knew what to look for. His arm was in a sling with a white cast (as he’d probably demanded, taking into account his obsession with the color white). The president stared at Rufus with a dark expression, as was to be expected.

 

Rufus had a rather smug look of his face, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the president interrupted.

 

“Don’t say a word.”

 

Rufus shut his mouth out of spite, and gave the president a challenging look, his posture relaxed and uncaring.

 

The president spoke with a hard unforgiving tone. “You’re grounded.”

 

Rufus smirked even wider, most likely because he’d predicted it a few days before, and the president jabbed a finger in his direction. “Get that look off your face. I have more for you.” He intertwined his fingers again and continued. “You're grounded until further notice. I'll give you things to do and you will do them without question. You aren't to leave the house unless I say so.” He went on listing off various limitations to Rufus’ freedom with Rufus barely listening, examining his fingernails.

 

“And one more thing,” said the president, “in case you're not listening. You won't be seeing your favorite Turk any time soon.”

 

Rufus’ smirk dropped right off his face and his eyes narrowed in the president’s direction.

 

The president turned to Tseng. “You're to escort the boy to the estate, hand him off to security, and then you'll have no contact with him whatsoever until further notice. Is that understood?”

 

Tseng’s mind raced, his entire being rejecting what he’d just heard, but he was a Turk and he had to answer. “Yes, sir.”

 

Rufus finally spoke, outraged. “Tseng is the man best suited for protecting me, you can't just--”

 

“I can, and I will!” yelled the president. “You won't need a bodyguard if you never leave the house. Security will make sure of your safety at all times.”

 

Rufus closed his mouth again, standing still as silent fury build inside of him. Tseng realized that this was probably the worst thing for Rufus, with his unhealthily violent thoughts. He wouldn’t have a support system for a while. Anxiety built in Tseng’s chest and he fought to stay placid on the outside.

 

The president went on, again. “Do you see this as a punishment? Good. It is. It's a punishment and a lesson.”

 

Rufus spoke through gritted teeth, not bothering to mask his fury. “What lesson is that?”

 

“The Turks are not your friends,” the president said. “They are there to protect you, not to play with you. Now, I want the Turk back here in an hour with a report. Is that clear? No dilly-dallying.”

 

Rufus trembled in fury, and Tseng looked to see his face out of the corner of his eye. The sheer malice in Rufus’ gaze put the grown Turk on edge. Rufus genuinely looked like he had violence on his mind. Was he going to try something, or would he go quietly? Tseng hoped for the latter, because Rufus didn’t need any more of a punishment. He didn’t need this in the first place. For the umpteenth time since Tseng had began his work as Rufus’ bodyguard, he was filled with sadness for how unfair it was.

 

The president lifted his chin as a final slap to them both. “You're dismissed.”

 

Rufus didn’t move, rooted to the spot by his fury. Tseng gently tugged on Rufus’ arm to pull him out of it, but Rufus  _ wasn’t _ in a rage-induced stupor and had in fact been listening. He ripped his arm away, gave his father one last hate-filled glare, then spun on his heel and left.

 

They stood in uncomfortable silence all the way down to the first floor, and out into the transport garage. Tseng hailed a driver and told her the destination, and turned to let Rufus into the car but the teen had already pulled open the door himself. Tseng frowned and got into his side and sat, and the sleek black car pulled out into the smog-filled streets towards the Shinra estate.

 

Tseng hated how many times this exact scenario had happened in the past four years. Rufus would be reprimanded or insulted by his father, and his patience would crack a little more every time, with Tseng and his charge sitting in the transport in silence while Rufus raged on the inside. Finally Rufus had decided to do something about it, but he had gone about it in a vengeful way that got him in a load of trouble. Now, Tseng felt that something in Rufus had finally snapped. The boy was trembling with anger, clutching his bad arm to his abdomen with his good arm and gripping his bicep with a white-knuckled hand. He stared ahead as if all he saw was carnage in front of him.

 

Tseng looked away finally, unnerved at the sheer malevolence behind the boy’s look. Tseng only hoped Rufus wouldn’t do anything else to get himself in trouble. There was nothing he could do to help. He wouldn’t see Rufus until further notice. He already didn’t see him a lot because of the boy’s independence, but the thought tore at his heart like he hadn’t thought was possible. He  _ liked _ protecting the boy. He liked being around someone with such passion and confidence, and it pained him to see that someone in pain. It pained him to know that there was nothing he could do to help. He was useless.

 

“Can you drive faster!?” Rufus suddenly barked at the driver.

 

Tseng nearly jumped at the exclamation, but settled soon after. He was just angry. The driver wouldn’t take it personally, he hoped.

 

Rufus didn’t say another word the whole short trip to the estate, and Tseng hoped it was a good thing. He got out and went around to help Rufus out of the car, offering his hand. Rufus took it begrudgingly, as he was probably still sore from the nasty kick to the abdomen he’d received. At least he’d taken Tseng’s hand, however, and the Turk took it as a good sign. He led Rufus up the path to the door as he’d done countless times before, when Rufus suddenly stopped. “Wait,” he called, weakly.

 

Tseng frowned, concerned. If he didn’t get back soon, the president would have his head. “Sir, I don't have much time--”

 

“Just wait a minute, okay!?” Rufus cried indignantly.

 

Tseng stood there nervously, but he waited. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, and Rufus needed him.

 

Rufus stood there, unwilling to move another step towards the door, because that meant that he would be cut off from the outside for an indefinite amount of time. The boy didn’t need this right now and it would take every ounce of Tseng’s willpower to walk away after this. Rufus stood there, staring at the ground in front of Tseng before suddenly walking up to him and thumping into his chest, wrapping his good arm around his bodyguard tightly.

 

Tseng was stunned. He’d seen Rufus come at him but hadn’t expected  _ this.  _ Rufus hasn't hugged him since he was four years old. The boy was completely unpredictable. The part of Tseng’s brain that dictated his movements screamed at him to leave, that he was only making this worse--but the part of his brain that felt things told the other part to sod off and brought Tseng’s arms around Rufus tightly.

 

Rufus spoke softly into Tseng’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

 

Tseng pushed away his fears and did what his heart told him to do, and he stroked the boy’s hair--albeit hesitantly. “You did nothing to me, sir,” he said quietly.

 

Rufus stood there without moving for a long moment trembling in whatever he was feeling that Tseng wouldn’t be able to decipher. Was he angry, or sad, or betrayed, or everything at once? It was impossible to know. Finally he pulled away, letting out a long breath before lifting his head to reveal a blank expression on his face. “Let's go.”

 

Tseng nodded, and led him up to the door of the mansion. Rufus hesitated for a moment, then opened the door in front of him. He stepped over the threshold, and didn’t turn around to utter his last words. “Goodbye, Tseng.”

 

Tseng couldn’t think of anything sufficient to say, so he merely answered “Sir,” quietly. Then he watched as Rufus went inside and closed the door, still not looking back.

 

He sighed, pushing these unfamiliar feelings of sadness away, and turned to leave. He had a report to give the president, solely to keep him from dallying too long in Rufus’ presence. He finally silenced the part of his brain that felt things, because it hurt too much now.

 

########

 

Rufus made his way straight to his room, ignoring the servants, even though he should probably talk to them sometime soon since he hadn’t seen them for a few days, or at all lately because he spent all his time working. He’d become somewhat of a recluse, so he made it a point to compliment their good work during the small amount of time that he did see them. But today he didn’t have the patience for such polite formalities. He went straight to his room before he stooped to his father’s level and broke something out of rage.

 

He closed the door behind him, miraculously without slamming it, and went over to his desk. He’d made it a point to write down his thoughts since he was about eight, to examine the growth of his own thought process in the future, and also to keep a record of ideas he’d come up with over the years. He also kept a record of the many arguments he’d had with his father, if only to get his frustration out of his body in a constructive manner. He preferred to handwrite his thoughts--it cemented them in his memory more effectively, and the kinesthetic manner helped relieve stress. He pulled his journal out of the drawer and flipped to a new page, and started writing.

 

The process was meant to relieve stress, but during times like these he always grew more and more upset until he got the feelings out. He scribbled furiously, knowing he probably looked like a pathetic angry teenager, but he didn't care. He knew his father would be watching his every move, but refused to hide in the camera-less bathroom like a criminal and scream at the mirror. He had to get the words out, but he wouldn't hide.

 

_ The Turks aren't my friends? _ His handwriting grew progressively more erratic as he went on and he pressed the pencil hard against the paper, creating bold, messy strokes.  _ You're the one who had one practically fucking  _ raise _ me you insufferable fuck! I hate you, and I want you DEAD. _

 

His hand trembled after it left the paper, and he stared at the last four words realizing that they were actually true, and not just a product of an angry teenage tirade. He really wanted his father dead. Today had been the last straw. He no longer felt his father had anything to give the company, and was only an emotional hindrance in his case.

  
He was already thinking of ways to pull it off and get away with it as he slowly calmed himself, resigned to play it safe and merely sit and think while under house arrest. He tore out the diary page and threw it in the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: RUFUS BROKE WHOOP. Now begins his plotting. This chapter got too long again. New one coming soon!
> 
> Also: idk which of Rufus’ arms got broken. But he can still write, regardless! Is he ambidextrous? :)


	11. Explosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah I have a habit of writing ungodly long chapters. This one was supposed to be part of chapter 10, but no. Here’s a shorter chapter! Before Crisis will start eventually. Enjoy the pain, and my horribly creative titles.

Tseng had thrown himself into work after the incident with Rufus. Part of him was glad for the extra time, but the other half of him nagged constantly about how it was just wrong. He had to shut that half up in order to get his work done. Most of the time he was holed up in his office on the 69th floor (the one he had immediately inherited from Nadya, a fact he didn’t like to think about), doing paperwork with a vengeance.

 

A couple days later, Reno finally noticed, it seemed. The older teen came over and rapped on Tseng’s open door, pulling him out of a boredom-induced frenzy. Tseng looked up and realized with delight that Reno was wearing proper shoes. He had finally learned.

 

“Hey, boss?” Reno asked, going right into it and ignoring the protocol of asking to speak first. “I heard something went down with Rufus, you know anything about that?”

 

Tseng deadpanned. “You will refer to him as the president’s son, Reno.”

 

Reno nodded, although he most likely didn’t internalize that. “Yeah, him. I haven’t seen him around for a while.”

 

Tseng forced himself to stay cool and professional. He was in Turk Mode and nothing could pull him out. “It isn’t my concern, nor should it be yours.”

 

“Well, I figured since we're his friends, we should care, yeah?” Reno said bluntly.

 

Tseng frowned, and pinched the bridge of his nose. It would be a miracle if Reno ever learned the concept of ‘tact’. “Have him tell you the next time you see him, which in all likelihood will be… not any time soon.”

 

Reno frowned, confused and a little disheartened. “Okay… He isn't pissed at us, yeah?”

 

Tseng blinked, not really expecting that response. “No, not that I know of.”

 

Reno ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Ah, good. I thought maybe I fucked up again…”

 

Tseng frowned, watching the rather serious frown on Reno’s face. He was curious why the teen would say such a thing, but he knew teenagers valued their pride and their privacy. He took the approach that would dissolve the tense atmosphere. “Don't you have work to do, Rookie?”

 

Reno blinked, then looked away sheepishly. “Uh… Yeah?”

 

Tseng gave him a soft glare, and Reno backpedaled. “I'm on it, I'm doing it! It’ll get done.”

 

Tseng didn’t smirk. He wanted to, but he didn't. “See that it does.”

 

Reno nodded, then waved as he left. “Thanks boss!”

 

Tseng sighed, then threw himself back into another paper-signing frenzy so that he would have time to train before he went home. He had a lot of stress to get rid of, and beating the hell out of a practice dummy was just one of the ways he enjoyed doing so.

 

########

 

Even after the ordeal with Rufus’ first date and the business deal falling through, the president felt the need to have these dinners with his son. Rufus wondered if it was a matter of convenience, or if he simply enjoyed flaunting his authority over a powerless boy. He didn’t like thinking of himself like that, but effectively that was Rufus’ situation. It had been his whole life, and he had been a fool to think that fighting directly against his father would do anything to change that. If fighting was ever going to accomplish anything, his father would have to be unaware that it was happening. Meanwhile, he tuned out the patronizing reminders his father gave him at every possible moment of how he looked like a monster to every corporate executive on the eastern continent, and how he’d had to work hard to repair relations with most of them by assuring his son was being punished severely enough. To the business world, Rufus was effectively in timeout until further notice.

 

Rufus fought to hold back an impatient grumble as he awaited the moment his father excused him from the table. It seemed another part of his punishment was that he couldn’t leave the table as early as he had been before, when he’d merely waited for the earliest moment that wouldn’t be considered rude. Sometimes he had to wait until the president had finished with his meal, and then he endured frustrating and pointless questions about his day. Father knew how his day was. He had nothing of note to do with his time. The only reason Rufus wasn’t going completely insane was the fact that his father wasn’t giving him any more funding, and he’d been researching ways to make his own money.

 

Father still provided food and lodging, of course, but if Rufus wanted anything more that wasn’t completely necessary he would have to find his own way of procuring it. Rufus briefly wondered if his father would still provide him with new clothes (since he was getting taller and he felt the hems of his pants rising to unsatisfactory lengths), but quickly dismissed the idea out of spite. He’d buy his own damned clothes, along with everything else he possibly could. The annoying thing was that the president had attempted to advise Rufus on how to invest his small amount of savings (which he had so graciously allowed Rufus to keep, since not doing so would give Rufus no possible way of buying  _ anything _ ), when clearly Rufus knew more than he did about such things. Rufus staved off the boredom and crippling hatred with finally putting some of his neglected ideas into action. He was excited to show Father that he didn’t need him, for anything.

 

But before that, he had to be released from this  _ hell _ of a punishment. He hoped, that if he exhibited good behavior and did everything his father asked, that the punishment could be shortened. But Rufus suspected that nothing he did would have any effect, and that his father had already chosen a time limit in advance. And if that were so, then theoretically Rufus should be able to find out how long that time limit was?

 

The trick was to ask Father without sounding impatient or overconfident, because that could lengthen the punishment period.

 

Rufus was willing to take that risk. He was confident that he could appear humble enough to at least not make Father angry. He pushed away any insubordinate feelings--because all they would do is hinder his efforts--and he asked. “I have a question, Father.”

 

The president didn’t waste any time with pleasantries when it came to Rufus’ thoughts. “What question is that?”

 

Rufus clenched his jaw in apprehension. “Do you have any idea how long this ‘indefinite’ amount of time will be?”

 

The president took his time, and chewed another mouthful of his dinner before answering. “Indefinite means you're not supposed to know. And by asking, I think it means that you haven’t learned your lesson.”

 

Rufus felt his insides clench. He used a cautious tone, and it killed him to do it. “It was merely a question, not a challenge of your authority, Father.”

 

The president looked up, finally. “Have you learned your lesson? You seem milder than before, at least.”

 

Rufus thought carefully. If he appeared too agreeable, his father would think he was merely sucking up to have his punishment alleviated. He had to sound genuine. “I’ve learned that it's pointless to try and fight you. I reacted the way a child would, and I'm going to act like an adult, now. Does that suffice?”

 

The president had looked down at his dinner again halfway through Rufus’ explanation. He didn’t have a single care for what Rufus was saying. “It's over when I say it is. Understood?”

 

Rufus felt a spark of rage, and forced it away. “Yes, Father,” he said calmly, turning back to his own dinner that he didn’t plan on finishing anyway.

 

Rufus didn’t mention that by acting like an adult he would be playing with more dangerous weapons, such as secrecy and bribery. Rufus kept his outer appearance calm, telling himself that it was all to end this idiotic punishment as soon as possible. He pushed away his anxious feelings of longing that had surfaced after he realized what he had lost by being placed under house arrest, because they would only make him upset and more likely to lash out, ruining any chance of ending this charade.

 

He decided that he was too emotionally dependent on Tseng and Reno, and that he had to become independent once again or risk failure. Such feelings were only damaging in the long run.

 

########

 

Tseng tried to enjoy the off time he  _ did _ have, because he knew that it was about to change.

 

It wasn’t official, of course, but Shinra had been planning a major offensive on the Wutai front for months, and it would require both the main army and SOLDIER, as well as most of the Turks for espionage. Tseng was almost certain that everyone save for Reno and Rude, and maybe Knife and Veld would be deployed shortly.

 

Tseng hadn’t really paid attention, but it suddenly hit him one day that Cissnei was a grown woman. She was a very capable Turk, and had taken lives. He remembered hiding that birthday card in her locker on her thirteenth birthday like he’d done it a week ago, when in fact it had been eight years. Now, Cissnei was going to be deployed to fight and kill enemies. She was only twenty-one, but she’d been training for as long as he had, so she would not be exempt from this.

 

Tseng frowned, marveling that he still thought Cissnei was young, when he was only a few years older himself. Jet and Dakota were almost twenty-six, and Katana had just turned twenty-five. They’d been training together for eleven years, since they’d started in the cadet program.

 

He suddenly felt really old.

 

Cissnei was fully capable, and was only a few years younger than himself, but Tseng didn’t like to think about sweet, innocent Cissnei actually doing the work the Turks did on a daily basis. He thought he had been more involved with his comrades after Rufus moved to his estate and he interacted with them more, but this proved how mindful he’d been of them in the subsequent years. He’d done more with  _ Goran _ than the Turks he’d studied with at first. He wondered if he should try harder to connect with them, or if it was too late for that.

 

He didn’t have much time to consider that before the new offensive was finalized. They’d be deployed within the week. They had three days to study battlefield plans and formulate their attack.

 

At first glance, the plan was already needlessly complicated. The army would be sent in as a frontal assault, and as a diversion from any other activity going on. They were essentially cannon fodder until the few SOLDIER were sent in as a surprise attack. And then in the confusion, the Turks were to infiltrate and gather any intelligence or battle plans they could find from the surrounding structures and outposts. Tseng felt that this offensive could be pulled off in three different battles, to minimize casualties, but it appeared that Heidegger was tired of retreating and wanted a victory for once. He was willing to sacrifice more lives than necessary in order to ensure that.

 

Tseng frowned as Veld explained each of their orders, as they were to split up into groups and attack different outposts. He didn’t like the idea of the Turks running into such a high activity area, but this is what they were for, right? If the Turks couldn’t pull this off, nobody could. Tseng only thought that it would be better if they were sent in before everyone else, and they could get out undetected before the proverbial shit hit the fan.

 

Heidegger didn’t trust the Turks, that was clear. He probably thought that by sending them first, they would alert Wutai troops of an incoming attack somehow, and ruin the element of surprise. Tseng felt insulted at the thought, but banished those feelings in favor of listening to Veld’s orders. Whatever happened, the commander wouldn’t lead them astray.

 

Their offensive would be a three-pronged attack on two of the outposts and one building inside the fort, coming in from the back, opposite the direction the army would be attacking from. Rosalind, Cissnei and Goran would go take out the outermost tower to allow everyone else access to the area without warning the inside towers. Jet and Dakota would go and take out the next, and then head around to as many others as they could without being detected. Finally, the two final senior Turks would enter the fort with Tseng as support and gain control of the main building, gather any intelligence they found inside, then leave without being noticed. Goran would join Katana and head into the fort as backup for them, and to create a diversion if necessary. Tseng wondered why they were even necessary, since the army was planning to take over the fort anyway, but he remembered that Heidegger was in charge and that he didn't usually care to keep sensitive documents intact during an offensive. It was up to the Turks to at least get something constructive out of this.

 

It seemed straightforward enough--at least their part of the offensive was. The Turks would uphold their flawless standard of work, no matter what the army or SOLDIER did. The day came to deploy, and Headquarters bustled with more activity than ever before. Tseng almost expected Reno to be irritated about being left behind, but the teen was surprisingly okay with it. Maybe he understood that they were going to the actual battlefield, and it wasn’t something to joke about or really look forward to. He gave Tseng a halfassed salute, told him to kick some Wutaian ass, and said he’d take care of the place while they were gone. Knife commented that he’d probably be taking care of the sofa more than anything else, and Reno gaped in offense. Tseng shook his head and left them, focusing his mind for the task ahead.

 

The army had done the scout operations and therefore were already in position, and the selected SOLDIER operatives had arrived the day before to look over the plans. The Turks took three choppers in the morning and arrived at the infantry’s campground just after sunset. They were given about an hour to stretch their legs and warm up before the army started to mobilize. It was time.

 

Tseng steadied his nerves, telling himself it was just another mission. Compared to the missions where he had to track a target and eliminate them, this would be simple. He got onto the chopper with his team, and they headed out to the strike point.

 

They landed the choppers two miles away from the fort so they wouldn’t be heard, and started out in the fort’s direction. When they saw the army’s artillery shells flying, they would know the battle had started and they had a distraction to work through. Tseng checked his gun silently for the fiftieth time, probably, if nothing else than to have something to do with his hands while they walked. The fort was in their sights soon enough, and as they neared it they slowed and waited in the trees for the battle to begin, making sure to scan their surroundings in case they were noticed.

 

As usual, the Turks performed flawlessly and weren’t spotted, and when the first of the artillery shells fired they sprang into action. They only had a small window of time before the outpost scouts would take their attention away from the main attack to watch for a flank attack, so they had to hurry and take out the first outpost as soon as possible. Cissnei and Rosalind took out the guards at the bottom, allowing Goran to bound up the tower and take out everyone inside. Seconds later, he signaled for Jet and Dakota to go on ahead, and Tseng’s team followed close behind, finding cover whenever possible so the next outpost wouldn’t notice a group of five running towards the walls.

 

Within a minute, Jet and Dakota had reached the wall. Tseng and the other two hid behind a retaining wall at a lower elevation while they worked, but Tseng peeked his head up once he thought it was safe. Dakota stopped, then shot upward towards the top of the tower on the wall. The guards inside noticed the rope ladder fall down and unravel, and went to investigate, but Dakota had already run backwards away from the tower to gain their attention. He took out one guard easily before they could train their weapons on him, and the other one was electrocuted by Jet, who had practically flown up the ladder while they were distracted. Again within seconds, Jet waved for the next phase of the plan to start. Dakota took off toward the next tower while Jet climbed back down, since she was faster and would catch up with him in no time. The two seniors next to Tseng jumped up over the wall and headed up the hill towards the ladder Dakota had shot down.

 

They jumped up over another wall, flew up the ladder into the tower, then dropped down onto the wall and into the fort without a single mishap. All the troops inside the fort were focusing on the incredibly distracting main attack at the front gate. Tseng forced himself not to flinch when he heard the last artillery shell blow open the front gate. There was no way Shinra could lose this fight, not with their unnecessarily overpowering numbers and firepower. A group of troops ran by and Tseng took cover with the others again, listening to the enemies shout in their foreign language. He frowned when he realized it took some thought to understand what they were saying. He’d been away too long and he never practiced with anyone, because… well. Wutai was the enemy.

 

“What are they saying?” asked one of the seniors, flatly.

 

Tseng understood the meaning alright, but it had been so long since he heard the words that they were hard to decipher at first. “They’re just mobilizing at the front. Nothing new.” He pushed away his disappointment in himself because all it did was distract him.

 

The senior nodded, then motioned for his partner to run out ahead towards their marked building. It was towards the back of the fort, where the enemy had thought was more secure. They hadn’t anticipated a group of infiltrators getting over the wall. They didn’t know what the Turks were capable of, and they wouldn’t find out if Tseng and his comrades could help it. They’d be in and out unnoticed.

 

The senior motioned for Tseng to cover them while they went inside. Tseng took up his post by the entrance to the three-tiered pagoda and scanned the surrounding area as the others ran in. He heard a commotion inside, and a few shots, and he knew that his comrades had already taken out everyone inside. He waited patiently, watching a few straggler groups of troops run straight past without taking a single glance in his direction.

 

Suddenly, his phone vibrated. He blinked, then fished it out immediately, figuring it was important if someone was using radio contact. The new feature blinked through, the one that overrode any other functions and automatically connected. A voice yelled from his phone,  _ “Get away, there’s a bomb!” _

 

Tseng hesitated for a split second, then shoved his phone in his pocket and dashed away from the building. He trusted his superior’s orders and didn’t even try to help, because they knew better than he did, but how were they going to get out? Were they jumping out of the top tier window? If the bomb went off then they would be sent flying and the fall would be fatal anyway, so would they take that risk or run down to the lower level? He risked turning his head to see if they had made it out behind him and--

 

The deafening explosion behind him nearly blew out his eardrum, and sent him stumbling forward onto his front, rolling into a ball in case shrapnel fell. Pieces of wood rained down, along with hot embers, and he rolled further away to avoid them. He looked up in the direction of the pagoda, his gaze frantically searching for his comrades. He didn’t see them anywhere.

 

His ear was ringing and he covered it up instinctively, wincing at the discomfort. He couldn’t think about if his teammates had gotten out of the building, or why they wouldn’t have been able to, or if they had warned him instead of getting out themselves because all that did was distract him, and he had to report to Veld that his mission had failed.

 

He ran towards the tower he’d used to enter and climbed back down the rope ladder, and jumped the rest of the distance onto a cart of grain bags on the other side of the wall. He jumped to the ground and tried to disconnect himself from what had just happened. He’d failed. It wasn’t his fault the building had a bomb in it, but he was a part of the mission that had failed, and therefore he shared some of the burden. Two of his comrades could be dead. He shook his head and reached into his pocket again to call Veld, hoping that the other groups had better luck than he had.

 

And then something fell next to him. His head jerked to the ground next to him.

 

A grenade.

 

… The Wutaian army didn’t use grenades.

 

His heart leapt into his throat and he dived away just as the grenade exploded, destroying the wagon next to him and sending pieces flying. Tseng landed painfully a ways away, his ear still irritated by the loud sound and-- _ who was attacking him!? _ He tried pushing himself to his feet and realized with a sharp pain in his thigh that a large piece of shrapnel had embedded itself into the back of his leg. He looked around frantically but didn’t see anyone, and wondered if it had merely been a displaced Shinra grenade, and that he just had the worst luck in the world. He clutched at the wound, hissing in pain, and examined the large piece of wood stuck in his leg. From the blood he felt seeping through his trousers, he didn’t think it was wise to pull it out, and he flinched at another large explosion inside the fort. What was going on in there!? Shinra was only trying to take it over, not blow it up! But Heidegger was in charge, so maybe he’d changed his mind at the last minute. Tseng gritted his teeth in frustration and pulled out his phone finally, giving up on sitting up and deciding instead to just lie there and call for help. He wasn’t helping anyone in this state. And two of his comrades could be dead. He forced himself to calm down so his heart would stop pumping blood  _ out of his leg. _

 

As he was flipping open his phone a shadow cast over him. That meant that something was between him and the torch up on top of the wall and--he jerked his head up and saw a man standing on top of the wall above him. He wasn’t Wutaian, but he wasn’t Shinra either, and from the way he was staring at Tseng while he lay on the ground in pain Tseng didn’t think he was going to help.

 

Tseng reached for his gun holster, then realized he’d dropped his gun when the grenade had exploded next to him, and he saw it above his head on the ground and lunged for it with the arm that had been holding him up. Then he saw a man’s boot smash into his hand from above and heard a sickening crunch, and he cried out when pain lanced up his arm. He pulled his arm away instinctively after the man rolled off him and kicked the gun away. The man had jumped from the top of the wall onto his hand.  _ Shit, _ his hand was  _ ruined--! _

 

That, and he was helpless. He was going to die here. He hadn’t done a single thing to help, and everything had gone so wrong. Panic suddenly settled in his chest and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t go out like this, it was supposed to be an easy mission! What the hell had happened!?

 

A hand grabbed his hair at the roots and pulled backward, earning a grunt in pain. Tseng winced and looked up into the man’s face and saw him clearly for the first time, albeit at an odd angle. He had flaming orange hair and wore sunglasses. At night. What the hell.

 

Was the man just toying with him? Didn’t he have better things to do? Tseng wondered if he could gouge the man’s eyes out with one hand, supposing he could push himself up using his injured leg. If this man was going to kill him, he wouldn’t make it easy.

 

The man spoke, finally, with a cool tone. “We don’t take kindly to Shinra bullying our friends. So we decided to help out, a little. Looks like you’re the only one left that I could find, so I want you to give your boss a message.”

 

Tseng fought to keep his breathing under control as his hand throbbed and his leg throbbed and his head  _ throbbed _ and this man was going to spare him. This man said that he was the only other one alive, so he must have known about the seniors going into that building--come to think of it, why the hell had there been a bomb in the building!? Tseng had thought it was dynamite or something, but an actual bomb would have to be placed by someone who wasn’t with the Wutai army. Could this man have killed his comrades, and was now sparing him simply to deliver a message?

 

Rage built in Tseng’s chest and he gave the man a glare that he hoped looked intimidating, considering the state he was in. The man didn’t react, but kept speaking. “I want you to tell your friends at Shinra,” he paused, and took off his sunglasses. His eyes flickered with the light from the fires on top of the wall. He leaned in and looked Tseng right in the eyes.  _ “Don’t come back”, _ he said menacingly. Then he pushed Tseng’s head forward roughly, grabbed his good hand, and closed it tightly around something. Tseng recoiled, but froze when he realized his thumb was on the trigger of a  _ grenade  _ and if he stopped flexing his hand it would spring back out and he would die.

 

Shit. He looked up at the man in disbelief. Why the  _ fuck _ would he give his messenger a live grenade? The man looked back at him, and smirked. Then he bounded away, and went back to the battle.

 

Tseng couldn’t believe the situation he was in. His emotions were a mess, and he didn’t know how to feel. Everything had happened too fast. Now his good hand had a grenade in it and he couldn’t make his call. Could he?

 

His phone was open next to him. He could press Veld’s number with one finger while holding the grenade, and talk with it lying on the ground. He cursed, and did so carefully, keeping his grip around the grenade tightly, lamenting his loss of dignity. No matter how humiliating his position was, he had to alert Veld that he wasn’t dead, yet.

 

He just hoped the two seniors got out of the building somehow, because he didn’t think he could live with himself if they didn’t.

 

########

 

He didn’t remember much from after calling Veld and reporting. He couldn’t describe anything, because he didn’t actually know anything. He was completely useless. He’d passed out eventually, probably from blood loss.

 

His hand was ruined and had to be carefully healed so he wouldn’t lose use of it later. His leg would be fine, but they made him stay in bed for a day because of the blood loss. He had numerous cuts in one arm and one side of his face that he hadn’t even noticed, but they’d heal. He still couldn’t hear out of one ear, but they assured him that it would heal also.

 

Veld had called Jet to go get him. He didn’t remember her carrying him to safety, but she must have taken care of the grenade easily enough before he’d passed out or he’d be dead. She came in later to make fun of him, so that gave him a chance to thank her. She brushed it off, saying he’d better do the same for her if it ever came to it. Dakota, Goran, Rosalind, and Cissnei were all completely unharmed, and had completed their missions successfully. Katana had entered another important building with Goran and got his face slashed open before killing the perpetrator, but other than that they found some useful intelligence and were able to get out unnoticed. The army had taken over the fort, as they’d wished to do. The offensive was a success, if no one looked at the casualties, or the amount of leveled structures inside the fort.

 

The problem they’d noticed was the amount of explosions that weren’t caused by Shinra. There seemed to have been traps laid all over, no matter if Wutai troops were nearby. Wutai had a different view of sacrifice it seemed, and they didn’t care if they died as long as enemy troops went with them. So a bomb had been planted in the pagoda even though there were troops inside, and someone had alerted them to arm it when Tseng’s team went inside. The fort was completely leveled by the end, and no prisoners were taken. It was a complete massacre. There was an investigation going on in the army ranks to see if someone had leaked their plans to Wutai, but Tseng suspected that the man with the sunglasses had somehow alerted the Wutai forces, and helped them fight. Maybe he’d seen Tseng’s comrades go inside that building, and told the people inside to arm the bomb. He and some other anti-Shinra members had allied with Wutai, and were the reason two more Turks were dead.

 

Tseng’s team members were never found. The only seniors left now were Veld himself from the first generation, and Goran from the second. Tseng had only survived to deliver a damned message, and he’d had a grenade clutched in his one good hand, while lying on the ground bleeding all over with his other hand broken. He’d failed in every way possible.

 

Tseng felt numb. He didn’t want to see anyone for a while.

 

########

 

Katana wiped down his blade again, something he found he did even if it was spotless, just in case there happened to be dust on it somewhere. He wanted it clean enough to see his own reflection in it at all times. He looked to examine it again, and looked at his face.

 

He’d had the slash healed, but it had left a nasty scar. Ugh. At least he had something to tell the ladies. He’d sacrificed one of his very flawless assets to the neverending battle for their freedom. Freedom was sexy, right? He just wouldn’t mention the nasty parts like how much blood got everywhere when he sliced a Wutai soldier’s neck open, or how the screams of victims he mutilated haunted his dreams.

 

He wasn’t really bothered by them, but it sucked to wake up to that all the time. He’d much rather have other dreams. Good dreams. Ones that didn’t involve his work. Why had he chosen the katana? He thought it was sexy? Probably. Stupid kid.

 

He looked up to Jet, who was leaning against the back of the sofa and twirling her EMR around absently. She’d been itching to get out and fight, so the seniors wouldn’t be doing it all on their own, right? But now she was quiet and thinking and those were two things she never did. He supposed that was fair, since the seniors were dead, now. All but one, at least. He decided to just say it. “So,” he began. “You happy to finally be on the battlefield?”

 

He hadn’t meant to sound bitter. Shit. It just came out that way. But the look she gave him made him regret ever speaking. “Yeah,” she said bitingly. “It sucks, I know. But at least we’re  _ doing _ something. And we’ve gotta step it up, because we’re the seniors now. It doesn’t matter how we feel about it.” She looked down at the floor in front of her, frowning with a weird expression Katana had never seen on her. “There’s no one else.”

 

She got up and left without a word. Probably to train, so Katana resigned himself to avoiding the training rooms for the rest of the night.

 

Later, Veld gave an official address, mostly to say a few words about their fallen comrades, and probably to raise their plummeting morale. Tseng had shown up out of respect, Katana noticed, but he looked pretty absent from a mental standpoint. Katana didn’t blame him.

 

They still had Goran as a senior, and that was good. He would be helping the third generation Turks to take over leadership roles, since they were old enough to be doing that anyway. Rosalind, Knife, Rude, and Reno were all considered third generation it seemed, but they were still young enough to be considered rookies. From the way things were headed, though, Katana didn’t think they’d be rookies for much longer.

 

“We still have a good amount of members, thanks to our newest recruits. Keep up the good work, and we will prevail against all odds. You’re all dismissed.”

 

Katana didn’t want to think about how fucked up that idea was, that they had enough members, still. As if they were supposed to forget that the last two seniors from the first generation had been blown to bits so small that they couldn’t even be recovered. All that mattered was that the Turks could still get their work done.

 

Maybe it was time to tell some people his name. That way, at least someone would remember his real name if he ended up dead one day. Someone would remember Adrian, the boy from Gongaga who’d fucked up a ton of guys to save his friend, all for nothing. Nobody had cared, in the end.

 

Adrian needed a drink. Maybe Goran would go with him. He went to find the old man, hoping he hadn’t already drowned in alcohol without him.

 

########

 

Rufus stood with his back straight and his arms behind his back in the dim lighting of his father’s home office. “You wanted to see me?” he asked, without the impatient tone he wanted to use.

 

“Yes,” the president answered, not looking up from his work. “I see you've adjusted well to your new schedule?”

 

Rufus didn’t react. Any reaction would betray his true thoughts. Either that or it would be too overblown and Father would still know he was kissing ass. “My life has been made very simple. There isn’t anything to adjust to.”

 

The president sighed, in resignation? “Yes, well. I’ve decided to allow you to leave the estate under supervision.”

 

Rufus only hesitated a beat at this marvel. “Using Shinra Security, I presume?”

 

“Of course,” said the president, looking up as if to make sure Rufus wasn't making any suggestive facial expressions. “And any destination and/or event must be approved by me in advance.”

 

“Of course,” Rufus answered. “Thank you, Father. Is that all?”

 

The president nodded without hesitation. “Yes, you’re dismissed.”

 

Rufus bowed slightly, out of respect, and left the room. Surely Father would understand his emotionless responses. It would be out of character for Rufus to kiss ass, after all. It was much more fitting for him to control his emotions carefully, and think about his actions in order to find better ways to react, therefore working on his behavior and becoming a better son. Father had been pleased with his efforts, it seemed.

 

It was good that he could hide his wrath behind that mask, because it was the only way Rufus could survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my neglecting to name those two Turks didn’t give away their imminent deaths, they were gonna die from the beginning HAH. Poor nameless Turks, you will probably not be missed because of your lack of development.
> 
> I am in love with Legendary Turk and I hope to use him a lot even though I have no planned scenes for him in the future…
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea if it’s possible to travel that fast in a chopper, we have no idea how big the world is. They get to Wutai somehow, there.


	12. Before Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Crisis is finally here!! The special episodes at least!! Tseng’s episode takes up a majority of this chapter, as well as Shithead!Rufus. Also yeah the part where it says Tseng was a rookie Turk during his Special Episode? Nah. I’ll try to make some things new to him, but nah. He’s no rookie.
> 
> So yeah if Tseng had only just met Rufus, then Rufus would probably turn out the same. He wouldn’t have a positive role model, so he’d probably be a shithead even faster, but his potential for goodness still stands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for slow as heck updates, the next one will probably be late December after this Hell Semester is over please god save my ass I don't sleep anymore

Eventually Tseng forced himself out of his depressive state, telling himself that he wasn’t helping anyone by moping around. Losing the seniors was hard on everyone, not just him, and even though they’d all accepted it they were still bitter about losing two of their best in a mere explosion. It was the same after the other senior died and Nadya left, and he had to get used to the idea that his friends weren’t invincible. _He_ wasn’t invincible. They could all die if they weren't careful.

 

However even if they _were_ careful, things could still go wrong. They hadn’t anticipated that Wutai had joined forces with anti-Shinra sympathizers. If they wanted to survive future battles, they would need to plan for every possibility.

 

They never found the man with the sunglasses, or any leads to him or his allies. The president was becoming irate about weeding out any local sympathizers, but also keeping the rest of the people from rebelling against such treatment. He shoveled money into their programs to keep them placated, but still neglected the slums against Veld and Reeve’s advice. The slums were where most of the unrest was located, and it was foolish to neglect them, but the president was set in his ways, it seemed.

 

Because of stubbornness like this, the war was still going strong. The investigation hadn’t revealed any leaks, so the threat was still considered external. Nothing was progressing, the people were more angry and demoralized than ever, so Heidegger finally suggested putting out all the stops and destroying Wutai, using everything Shinra could offer. The Weapons Development department had finally designed some prototype war machines that were ready and waiting to be tested on Wutai troops, and Lazard had trained numerous new SOLDIER operatives to form a small army. Shinra was going to deploy their full force, and they would level the Wutai frontier. Tseng had numbed himself to the idea long ago.

 

Fortunately for Shinra, the populace was very excited to see the top operatives of the SOLDIER program in action. Well, they wouldn’t actually _see_ it of course--that would be too graphic--but they would hear about it on the news and in the papers. Heidegger was doing his very best to make the silver-haired First Class, Sephiroth, the poster boy of SOLDIER. Tseng understood what the people saw in a hero like that, in both his strength and his looks, but he was immune to the media’s charms and preferred to think about the program as a whole. After all, there were two other First Class SOLDIER that never got any attention, and they were of the same caliber. Nevertheless, having strong protectors released into the battle would raise morale for everyone. Except Wutai. Tseng didn’t think about that.

 

The Turks weren’t called to the battlefield again, luckily, and Tseng hoped Heidegger finally understood that a full-frontal assault combined with an espionage team was not a good mix. He hoped Veld could stave off the man’s stupidity enough to keep the Turks out of main assaults.

 

He hadn’t gone to see Aerith in months, he realized. Shinra hadn’t even bothered him about it at all, since they had more pressing issues with the war. The next time Tseng visited her, she pouted at him saying he missed her birthday. He apologized, saying he could bring something next time, but she objected to that too, saying she didn’t want any gifts from Shinra. Tseng was glad at least one thing hadn’t changed.

 

Tseng was looking forward to the war finally ending, one way or another, so the world could go back to the way it was. He was tired of two sides fighting with stubborn belligerence and no willingness to compromise. When leaders waged war, it was their people who suffered, and there was no need for it. At this point, Tseng only hoped for a swift end so that Shinra could get what it wanted, and Rufus could take over later and lead the world into a more peaceful era.

 

It had been over a year--Tseng had lost track after three months because it was too distracting. He could figure out exactly how long easily, because he remembered the exact day that Rufus had been placed under house arrest, but he didn’t care to. He put it out of his mind until he received word from Veld that his bodyguard assignment was being reinstated.

 

First, Tseng couldn’t believe his ears. Then his heart leapt unexpectedly. Rufus was free. Tseng was surprised and concerned at how happy that made him, but he decided to sod all and just enjoy it. Maybe things were already going back to normal.

 

On the designated day, Tseng received a schedule from Rufus. Communications between them had been restored immediately, and Rufus had taken full advantage of that it seemed. Unless he was reading too much into it. Maybe Rufus had grown out of him in a year. Tseng decided to simply act the way he always had, and keep his anxiety to himself.

 

He showed up at the Shinra residence at the designated time (a little early, but that wouldn’t be a problem), entered through the servant’s entrance and waited in the lobby as he always did. Exactly at nine o’clock on the hour, Rufus came down the stairs from his quarters, with a slight skip in his step Tseng was amused to observe.

 

Rufus still had that ridiculous haircut that fell into his face, and Tseng was almost relieved to see it. That could be an indication that he hadn’t changed at all. Other than that, Rufus’ outfit seemed more elegant and personalized. There were small, grey accents as opposed to the plain white suit the boy used to wear, and he wore a black ascot tie. They were small changes, but Tseng was impressed. He didn’t show it though, because that was unprofessional and he didn’t know how else to act when he was meeting his charge for the first time in over a _year_ and he’d actually _missed_ the boy.

 

He just settled for a slight smile. That was okay, right? “How are you today, sir?” he asked, casually.

  
Rufus actually beamed. “ _Ecstatic_ ,” he said in a surprisingly deeper voice. Tseng supposed he should have expected that, eventually. “It will be good to have someone competent around again. I'm glad to get out of the house and get back to work, and show Father that I've learned my lesson. Shall we?” Rufus led the way out to the transport and they sped off towards Headquarters. Rufus had a very busy day ahead of him, it seemed, compared to his days that were full of studying before.

  
Tseng spoke up again, glad that the young man was smiling, at least. “You seem to have turned over a new leaf, sir.”

  
Rufus continued to beam contentedly, a complete turnaround from the angry and impatient teen he had been the year before. “I have!” Rufus said with delight. “I'm going to be a model son.” And then suddenly, his delight dropped to something more sinister, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Model indeed. The perfect figurehead. Like a porcelain doll sitting on a shelf for everyone to see.” Then, almost flippantly he switched right back to the carefree expression he’d had before. “But when nobody's watching I can do as I please. As long as Father is happy he doesn't care what I do. I intend to keep him that way.”

  
Tseng ignored the sinister face Rufus had used, passing it off as ‘calculating’ instead. Rufus was merely proud and confident again, as he had always been. He sounded like he had genuinely changed his views. “You seem to have matured much in the last year, sir,” he said probingly.

  
“Yes well, sitting by yourself unable to leave the house for a year can do that to you,” Rufus said nonchalantly. “You learn that you're willing to do a lot more than you initially thought.”

  
Tseng felt excitement at how things were turning out. “It isn't a bad thing, sir.”

  
Rufus looked ahead, pensively. “No, maybe not.” And after another beat, he turned to Tseng and smiled, genuinely. “It's good to have you back.”

  
Tseng smiled back, feeling better than he had in months. “Likewise, sir.”

  
Rufus smirked back. “Did you miss me?” he teased.

  
Tseng would bite. He could play along. “Of course, sir. It just wasn’t the same not having to shepherd you around everywhere.”

 

Rufus laughed. All was well.

 

Rufus stated that his first destination was Floor 69 to speak with Veld, but Tseng suspected that it was mainly to see if he could catch a certain redheaded Turk. None of the Turks save for the commander (and sometimes Tseng) spent a lot of time up on the office floor, but Rufus didn’t have access to Headquarters, so it would be unlikely to dramatically meet Reno at this specific time, and Rufus was lucky to find Reno sprawled out on the sofa. Reno sat up immediately upon realizing who had just walked through the door. “Hey, Look what we have here!” he drawled as he sprung up from the sofa, languidly. “Your old man let you out of the doghouse?” He trotted over and offered his fist to Rufus.

 

Rufus grinned amusedly, and bumped Reno’s fist with his own. “Hah, it was _way_ more than that. A doghouse would have been more appealing.”

 

Reno gasped dramatically. “And your voice! You don’t sound like a ten-year-old girl, now!”

 

“That is _not_ how you should be speaking to the future vice-president,” Rufus pouted, also dramatically.

 

“Oh _excuse_ me, Your Highness,” Reno said with a low, exaggerated bow, and Rufus almost kicked him in the face.

 

Tseng looked on amusedly, glad that they were at least in high spirits. With this one aspect of life returning to normal, perhaps everything else would follow. Once the war ended, maybe the most difficult job they would have was keeping the drug lords in line, again. Or weapons manufacturers. Compared to a long, violent and impassioned war, these were simple tasks. Tseng had never believed that Wutai had a chance of winning, and now with Shinra’s recent plan to completely annihilate them he was rooting for his company to end it. As long as Shinra policed the entire world when it was over, everyone would be safe. Hopefully Wutai wouldn’t hold onto their animosity forever, and they would forgive the next leader to come along.

 

Maybe Rufus would be a good president. He cared about the people. He had already outlined many changes he would make if he were president, and Tseng approved of them. He felt optimistic for the first time in a long time.

 

########

 

Because of the office vacancies on Floor 69; Dakota, Jet, and Adrian were each assigned one of their own. That was awkward to bring up, but at least Tseng had friends up on the floor, now. He could hear Jet grumbling about paperwork through the wall, sometimes, and it was more of an amusement than a distraction.

 

########

 

If there was anything Rufus had all the time in the world for while he was under house arrest, it was learning how to break in and out of databases undetected. He was soon able to access all Shinra intelligence databases, including those of SOLDIER and Administrative Research. If he ever needed to know something about the company, he had access to it.

 

He hadn’t decided how it was going to happen, but he’d decided that the very base necessity was to remove Father from office. The easiest way would be to simply assassinate him and take his place of course, (because really, who else was more qualified for the Vice President position than Rufus? It was practically a given that he would be elected, and then made President if Father were removed) but that would involve having someone else to do it, and then having to tie up that loose end. Either he could do that, or he would have to find someone who would be loyal to him after the assassination. It was risky, but Rufus was confident that he could find a way. And of course there was always the blackmail approach to get Father to step down, but gathering enough evidence against the man to make his supporters abandon him would be quite a task.

 

He supposed he had time. He wasn’t even Vice President, yet, so assassinating him now would only cause chaos. He would have to cement his position as Vice President before carrying anything out. In the meantime, Rufus could relax and plan without any worries. Father would never suspect a thing, because he never believed that anyone could possibly go against him.

 

Rufus began searching in the more covert places of the Net, mostly for anti-Shinra rhetoric and their authors. These were the kinds of people he would have to deal with if he became president, and he could eliminate the threat by convincing them that he would be a different president. Doing that under Shinra’s nose undetected would be rather difficult, so he decided to keep his identity hidden while gathering followers. Once he secured their loyalty, he would reveal his plans to them.

 

Rufus wondered if the Turks had ever roamed these parts, deciding they hadn’t reached his level of expertise once he saw anti-Shinra dogma running rampant with no fear of retaliation. Even if they had, the Turks probably couldn’t find a way to track these posts to their sources, so there was little use in surveilling the area. Rufus, however, had more tricks up his sleeve that allowed him into places that others couldn’t get to. He roamed the message boards and articles under a multitude of random pseudonyms, and hid his location as well as he could from these types of people (because if he could find them, they could probably find him), and made himself look as inconspicuous as he could while he searched. And finally, after scouring the Net for the most radical anti-Shinra activists, he found one.

 

This avatar had numerous followers, despite being completely anonymous. For all Rufus knew, it could be a collective of people. A collective would be better, since he needed more people to support him anyway. The avatar raved eloquently about how Shinra practices were killing the Planet, and that if they didn’t end the atrocities then everyone would suffer. Rufus didn’t care much for the rhetoric, but he read it anyway so that he knew what he was dealing with.

 

It was true that the reactors polluted the atmosphere, but was taking the Lifestream from under the earth really doing anything to damage the Planet? It was said that the Lifestream (so aptly named, he thought) was made up of dead souls, but such a thing was scientifically preposterous. It was simply a more efficient form of natural fuel that was renewable. When the Lifestream was pulled out of the Planet, it was processed to create electricity, and in the process burned and released into the atmosphere as noxious smoke. That part was harmful--Rufus wouldn’t deny the obvious, even if Father would--but not to the Planet. Rufus theorized that the chemically-transmuted particles remained in the atmosphere until they combined with water and rained down to the surface again. Perhaps it would have to be chemically changed once more in order to be a part of the “Lifestream” again, but it wasn’t just being burned and ceasing to exist. Matter could not be destroyed. The Planet would be fine.

 

He thought about the barren wasteland around Midgar, though, and frowned in distaste. Using the Lifestream as an energy source might have been sucking vital minerals and microorganisms out of the earth, and in that case it would be wise to slow down the consumption of it. It was either that or find a way to replace the minerals and microorganisms that were being sucked out of the earth. Then again, it wasn’t a problem around Midgar, since nobody lived outside the city walls for miles, so nobody would be interested in changing practices just to save some plants and bacteria. Rufus was interested in reducing emissions, however, and finding a way to make this Lifestream more renewable. Perhaps these anti-Shinra fanatics would appreciate help from such a person.

 

If it came down to it, he would phrase his goals in such a way, but for now he depicted himself as an avid supporter, someone very interested in everything this anonymous avatar had to say. If anything, they were skilled in getting their points across, with scientific data to back it up. Rufus wondered if they were a scientist. If so, he had found someone who could put Hojo in his place, he thought with a smirk.

 

And so, he began his conversation with the avatar.

 

Fortunately for him, he was a fifteen-year-old boy that had no friends or current romantic pursuers, so he hoped to mask his encrypted correspondence as an attempt at courting. Father would approve of him trying to talk to people, finally, albeit uncomfortably because of it needing to be encrypted, and therefore would leave the matter alone. Rufus smirked at the idea of making his father uncomfortable again.

 

He was correct, in every way. He forced himself not to smirk when his father brought it up, finally, and called Rufus into his office.

 

“You're speaking to someone on an encrypted channel a lot,” the man said absently while shuffling through some papers, as if he weren’t uncomfortable with it.

 

Rufus answered coolly, as he often did now. It masked his complete delight. “It's simply for privacy.”

 

The president looked up, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Who do you need privacy to talk to?”

 

Rufus fought the urge to correct his father’s grammar and kept his cool facade. “It's a friend.” He said it as if it was _not_ just a friend, just to mess with Father even more. And what was the gender of this friend? Father wouldn’t know unless he asked, and that would imply that he was thinking about Rufus having a “friend” that was male, and that made him uncomfortable for both the obvious reason of Rufus being his _son_ and it was _weird_ to think about his son in that way _,_ and that the social implications were usually negative for people of their stature. It wasn’t bad to have a homosexual relationship, unless you were rich and in a position of power, because then it usually involved adultery. Because powerful icons always had to marry the opposite gender to carry on their legacy. Rufus gagged internally at the thought.

 

The president frowned in discomfort. “What... What kind of friend?”

 

“Do you _really_ want to know?” Rufus finally smirked. Here it was acceptable, he thought. “I'm sure you understand.” Father most definitely did, and wouldn’t ask about it because it made him uncomfortable. Rufus’ delight grew exponentially.

 

The president frowned, obviously trying to get ideas out of his head. “Wh... Why don't you do that at your home office instead?”

 

“Shinra has the best security,” Rufus said, as if he hadn’t been planning his answer for weeks. “The encryptions at my home office have only a fraction of the strength they do here. If my friend's identity were to get out, it would inconvenience them severely.” That was a lie, of course, but he didn't want Father finding out that he’d added security to his home office. This was just another added security measure so the man would never even consider it.

 

The president finally found his resolve again. “Do it at home,” he said with an annoyed expression.

 

“I won't promise anything,” Rufus said, not moving his gaze. He was confident that Father would drop the subject, if only out of discomfort. Father ran away from things he didn’t understand.

 

He dismissed himself from the office, heading back to meet Tseng down in the lobby. When Rufus wasn’t in meetings with subdepartment heads, he was researching and corresponding with the Avatar. He thought with slight disappointment that he never had time for “hanging out” anymore. Reno had bugged him incessantly before Rufus had rather rudely told him to stop texting while he was in meetings. To be fair, that was most of the time, and Reno could never know what his schedule was. But _also_ to be fair, Reno was probably too busy and should have been working. They weren’t kids anymore. They could meet in the halls and during off time, but actual “hanging out” never happened anymore. Rufus had too many things to get done as soon as possible.

 

There were more important things than friendship.

 

########

 

Tseng had been on numerous solo missions before, but this was the first major assignment that he would be conducting without any type of aid. There had been no prior investigation--he was to find out everything on his own. There was a single lead to go on, and the rest was up to him.

 

To be fair, he was old enough to take on the responsibility. Other than Goran, he was the most experienced out of everyone now. It was his turn to take up the mantle.

 

A Shinra security guard had been reported missing from one of Shinra’s reactors. The only lead was an unmarked and unregistered vessel that had recently docked in the water at Costa del Sol, and even that was stretching it. His job was to investigate the vessel, and see if he could find a connection to the missing security guard.

 

Tseng reasoned that the only reason to kidnap a reactor guard would be to learn more about the reactor itself. And an unregistered vessel could be a hiding place for some unsavory characters that were interested in Shinra’s reactors, so it wasn’t completely illogical to search there. The problem was, were they too late to stop the leak of information? Tseng had to find the soldier before the man gave up anything.

 

He arrived on the beach and located the vessel, right in the place it was first sighted. There wasn’t anyone outside guarding it, since non-Shinra guards probably would have given the illegality away immediately, and Tseng boarded without a problem. He stepped quickly and lightly, to avoid making loud tapping noises with his shoes that echoed through the metal walkways and alerted any potential enemies. He made his way down and peered around the corner.

 

Sure enough, there were armed guards. If they were confirmed enemies, Tseng would be within orders to take them out immediately. However, they were simply standing in an unregistered vessel. Tseng gave them the benefit of the doubt, even though be doubted that they were innocent in any way. He called out to them. “Shinra security, state your business!”

 

The response was immediate. These men were not interested in dealing with Shinra. Tseng took them out quickly and efficiently, having desensitized himself to this aspect of his work by now. It was just a job, and these people were probably interested in hurting innocents, anyway. Yes. Okay, maybe he wasn’t completely desensitized. They deserved what they got if they were going to hurt others.

 

The militants down in the ship weren’t expecting any opposition, let alone from Shinra’s most elite covert operations task force. Tseng dispatched them without incident, and headed to the control room to figure out what they were doing. He took a look at the surveillance monitors to make sure nobody was headed up to engage him, and he noticed with a pump of adrenaline that there was a Shinra security guard on the floor of the confinement room. There were no other enemies. They probably hadn’t posted many troops because they hadn’t expected opposition.

 

He quickly found the quickest route to the room, finally feeling some sort of nervousness. He’d been calm before because he hadn’t had any real orders other than ‘investigate the vessel’, but now he had a clear objective. He had to get to that soldier, and get him out of there.

 

He ran to the confinement area and frowned at the open door. Perhaps they’d simply run out of the room and left the door open, unafraid that the injured guard would try to leave. He lay on the floor, motionless, and looked to have multiple serious injuries resulting from torture. He knelt down next to the guard and felt for a pulse, and the guard stirred, groaning.

 

Tseng couldn’t waste time. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked.

 

The guard groaned again, so Tseng continued to speak and keep the guard’s mind alert. “I’m Tseng, of the Turks. I’ve been looking for you. Did they torture you for information?” It sounded insensitive, but he had to know if any information had been leaked, and to whom.

 

The guard finally opened his eyes, grimacing in pain. “No sweat… Didn’t talk…”

 

Tseng felt relief flood through him. There would be no need to track down and get rid of people with illicit information. Those jobs were cold and he didn’t look forward to the day when he was finally given one. “You did well,” Tseng said, in a tone he hoped was comforting.

 

The guard started desperately gasping words that sounded disjointed and nonsensical. Tseng asked him to slow down and take his time, because he was safe now. The guard spoke slowly, and with great effort, and Tseng’s eyebrows drew together in concern at what he was hearing.

 

The militants had been buying stolen Shinra weapons from a black market weapon seller, and had stocked them aboard the ship. The guard hadn’t given up any information about the reactors, but the enemy still had Shinra weapons and files. Tseng grew outraged at hearing that a black market dealer had the gall to sell to anti-Shinra militants. There was no time to take out every illegal dealer in the world, but this one was causing big trouble by selling to an enemy of Shinra instead of the common street thugs that were usually the main customers. This would not be tolerated.

 

However, first, Tseng had to get out of here. He couldn’t allow the guard to be kept prisoner, but there was also the threat of the arms dealer. Tseng decided that he had better complete his initial mission of investigating and finding the guard, since failure to do that would guarantee more information falling into the wrong hands. That, and he couldn’t just leave this man here to die. If he went straight after the arms dealer, he would have to take care of the guard, to make sure he wouldn’t talk--even though he had proven his mettle by telling his torturers nothing. Rules were rules, and Tseng could make no exceptions.

 

He decided that carrying the man out of there would do the most good and the least bad. The guard objected, telling Tseng to leave him, but Tseng wasn’t about to turn into a heartless monster. There was nothing more important than saving innocent lives.

 

########

 

Tseng understood that his duty should have been to investigate the weapons dealer. But his first mission was to investigate the vessel and to figure out what happened to the guard, so he decided to complete that task first. It was logical. It wasn’t solely to convince himself that saving a life was more important.

 

Tseng realized his mistake when he was met with Veld’s ireful gaze after returning to Shinra. Veld reprimanded him, saying that it was wrong to choose the guard’s life over company secrets, and that he had failed in his duty.

 

Those words were like a dagger in Tseng’s heart. Not only was he deeply ashamed, but he still wasn’t convinced that what he’d done was wrong. He couldn’t accept that he should have killed the guard and gone after the weapons dealer. He couldn’t say as much, however. Veld did not look like he would take kindly to insubordination.

 

Veld went on to detail Tseng’s new mission--a direct order from the president. He was to destroy the weapons and data, as well as locate the leak who gave the dealer info on the stolen weapons’ existence. And as a final detail, Veld stated that he would be accompanying Tseng on this mission.

 

Tseng couldn’t breathe. Was Veld going along to make sure he didn't screw up, again!? Surely he had more important things to do! All the same, Tseng had made a mistake, and now he had to prove to Veld that he could handle the job. It was his own fault that Veld had to act as his babysitter for this mission, and Tseng would take full responsibility for it by doing exactly as he was told.

 

They made it back to the dock where the ship had been before, and they were surprised to find that it was _still there._ What in the world had possessed them to keep their vessel in the same place that had been attacked the day before!? Tseng didn’t question the actions of fools, and the pair entered without incident.

 

They met opposition inside as Tseng had before, and he had to wonder what kind of anti-Shinra militants these people were if they hoped to face Shinra. They were sloppy and unprepared, and Tseng almost felt bad for them. They aimed to harm innocent people like that reactor worker, however, and so he didn’t hold back.

 

Veld stopped after they cleared the first hallway, and turned to Tseng. “You go to the control room to find and delete all files regarding the weapons,” he said. “I will go find the hangar and destroy the stolen weapons.”

 

Tseng nodded. “Yes, sir.”

 

Veld gave him a long look, and Tseng hesitated, feeling his insides clench.Veld spoke again, “Abandon your fear. Take back your pride. You are a Turk.”

 

Tseng nodded. He felt like a child being lectured by a teacher. Would he never reach the standard that Veld called for? “Yes,sir--”

 

Suddenly they heard footfalls coming down the hall, and Veld nodded for him to go. Veld took off down one end as Tseng went the other way, putting those words out of his mind and focusing on the task ahead of him.

 

Tseng retraced his steps back to where he knew the surveillance room was, dispatching the militant crewmembers as he went along just as before. Half of the time they didn’t even know what hit them, and the other half they couldn’t react fast enough to put up a fight. Either these guys weren’t trained, or Tseng was just too good for them. He was a Turk, after all. They didn’t stand a chance.

 

He made it into the room and immediately went up to the computer, opening up the screen with all the files on it. He sighed to himself, thinking that a lot of this could have been avoided if he’d just deleted the data the first time he was here. He deleted the data regarding the stolen weapons, and then noticed a notification in the history. It had been backed up onto a hard disk somewhere. Shit.

 

He was about to continue searching for the backup when he heard the click of a weapon, and spun around just in time to dodge a flurry of bullets. He rushed to hide behind the wall as they fired into the room from the doorway, and heard them speak.

 

“He’s destroyed the data, don’t let him follow us!”

 

Well. The only reason they wouldn’t want Tseng to follow would be if they had the backup copy of the data, right? Tseng had to get it back.

 

One of the soldiers stayed behind and kept firing at him, but the poor man was no match for Tseng’s speed. Tseng waited until the man had to reload, and then lunged out of his hiding spot and around the corner where the man had retreated to to reload. He was dispatched quickly with a merciless punch to the abdomen, then Tseng raced back to the computer to see where the other two had gone.

 

He searched through the surveillance feeds to find his targets, but came upon a large open room with Veld at the center. He was surrounded by several of the weapons that were stolen from Shinra… and they seemed to be activated. Tseng gasped.

 

He scrambled for the mic button, and pressed it. “Veld!”

 

Veld’s figure on the screen looked up and around. “Tseng?” came the distorted voice from the small speaker.

 

Tseng’s chest clenched. “Sir! Get out of there!” Why was he just standing there!?

 

Veld didn’t budge. “Not yet! What about the data?”

 

Tseng fought the urge to sigh in frustration. “It’s almost done, I just need to find the backup data!”

 

“The get it done!” yelled the commander. The huge metal golems moved to attack him, then, and Veld moved into a defensive stance.

 

“Veld!?” Tseng yelled. There was no way he could survive that kind of fight, right? Those weapons were designed for warfare, against _armies._ He had to get down there and help--

 

“Tseng, don’t you get it!? You’re about to repeat the same mistake! What should a Turk’s top priority be!?”

 

Tseng’s mind raced. He knew he had to finish the mission above all else, but Veld could--!

 

He stopped that thought in its tracks. Veld told him to do something, and he would do it. He couldn’t betray the commander’s trust, not again. Tseng’s failed mission was the reason Veld was here, after all. He couldn’t fail again! He finished his task and pulled away from that screen just as Veld began fighting those weapons. He put it out of his mind.

 

Tseng found which route the crew members that found him were taking to escape, and dashed out the door again. They were slow, and stood no chance against him. Tseng didn’t feel bad, this time. Once he recovered the drive with the data on it, he rushed towards where he knew the weapons were fighting the commander.

 

He made it inside the room to see Veld pinned down, but still alive, thankfully. Tseng immediately went into action drawing them away from the commander. Veld scolded him, saying he told the young man not to help him, but Tseng pridefully responded that his mission was accomplished. Now all they had to do was destroy the stolen weapons.

 

With the combined power of two of the highest level Turks, they were able to fight off Shinra’s prototype golems without too much trouble. They emerged from the carnage with a few scratches and maybe a slight burn, but nothing that wouldn’t heal quickly.

 

Veld turned to him, that familiar glint of amusement in his eyes, “You’re pretty good now, rookie. You’ve finally learned your way around a gun.”

 

Tseng frowned, his face heating up uncomfortably. “Sir, I’m hardly a rookie. I would hope that I am proficient by now.”

 

Veld chuckled, then went back to his calm and serious demeanor. “Good job. The mission was a success. We now have information on who could have leaked the weapons location.” He paused, and continued. “You finally understand your duty?”

 

Tseng blinked, then nodded. “Yes, sir. I must finish the mission, by any means necessary. Even if… it meant leaving you to fight these weapons off yourself.”

 

Veld nodded. “Good. Let’s get back to headquarters.”

 

Without another word, they headed out. Tseng didn’t like what his orders had forced him to do, but if he’d simply completed his mission before, then Veld would not have had to get involved. Tseng should have judged the situation better, and he would do so in the future.

 

Just as Veld turned to leave, there was a massive explosion that rocked the ship. Veld stumbled and caught himself before he fell to the floor. “What in the world!?”

 

“They could be trying to trap us in here, sir!” Tseng yelled. “We have to get out of here!”

 

“Come, the exit’s this way!” yelled Veld.

 

Tseng didn’t get to see his superior in action very often, and when he did he was always amazed. Veld was the oldest out of all of them, yet he still moved like the younger Turks. Tseng raced along right behind his superior as the ship rocked and shook. One of the hallways was already taking on water, and a beam fell from overhead, falling behind Tseng in a noisy heap.

 

Close to the entrance, another explosion happened overhead, and they both looked up. Veld was a little ways ahead of Tseng, and he turned to yell, “Tseng, look out!”

 

The section of the ceiling that separated from the top of the ship was already too close to Tseng for him to do anything, and he yelled out in shock as he was suddenly driven into the floor with a loud _crash._

 

“Tseng!” Veld yelled, looking up at the unstable ceiling and debating if he should run across to save his subordinate.

 

Tseng’s torso and leg were on fire. Did he still have that leg? It screamed in pain as his torso was crushed under the weight of the metal beams, making it impossible to breathe. He would have cried out in pain if he could breathe in enough to do so. Shit. He was trapped.

 

“I… can’t… move…” he forced out through his grimace. “Sir… please… go…”

 

“What did you say!?” Veld barked at him. “Get up!” He sounded almost angry. Tseng could understand.

 

Tseng tried once more to free himself, but it only caused pain to lance through him once more. He would tear his body apart if he tried to escape. He stopped struggling, realizing that there was no way for him to get out alive anymore. This was it. He was going to die on a sinking ship, because he wasn’t fast enough. He looked up to Veld one more time to say goodbye, but to his surprise, Veld rushed back towards him, and cursed as another heavy beam fell and forced him to dodge.

 

Tseng could barely keep his head up, the pain quickly overcoming his senses. “Sir… Just go…” If Veld didn’t hurry out, they would both die! What was he thinking!?

 

Veld lunged forward, but stopped too late to avoid another beam and pulled back just in time to have it glance off of his face. He grunted in pain, and Tseng would have been worried if the pain weren’t pulling him from consciousness. If he just went to sleep, the pain would stop. But he had to get Veld out of there, first. He had to do everything he could.

 

“Any means…” he forced out. “... and doing… successful…” He finally let his head fall against the floor of the ship, the pain overtaking him.

 

Veld shouted back at him, through his hazy senses. “No! You still don’t get it!”

 

Tseng finally let the darkness take him. This was his own fault, and he would pay for his mistake. His time had finally run out, just as that old man in Junon so many years ago had warned him. He had been lucky to survive this long.

 

As he crept deeper and deeper into the darkness, he thought he heard words.

 

_Tseng. Abandon your fear. Take back your pride. You are a Turk._

 

And then he heard nothing.

 

########

Tseng woke up.

 

Tseng did not realize at first that he was awake. The first thing he noticed was that everything hurt. It was mind-numbing and caused him to not think about anything at all until the nurse came around with another dose of pain medication. After that, he realized he was alive. He opened his eyes.

 

He had been taken to a Shinra hospital close to Costa Del Sol to heal his most serious injuries, and then he was transferred back to headquarters once he was stable. He asked where Veld was, and the nurse told him the Turk commander was in the ICU.

 

Tseng’s heart dropped into his stomach. The commander was in the ICU because of him? How badly was he injured?

 

He had little else to do but wait until the commander was released so they could speak. Tseng waited impatiently all day; the endless amount of free time he suddenly had to enjoy did nothing for his overbearing feeling of shame.

 

He must have eventually fallen asleep again, because he was awakened by the nurse when Veld came by. He was okay? Did he get healed artificially? He scrambled to sit up, jostling his injured ribs in the process. “Sir--!” he started.

 

Veld looked none worse for the wear--except that a long and angry-looking scar ran down the side of his face. Tseng tensed. “I’m so sorry, sir, because you helped me, your face is scarred.”

 

Veld waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Because of that, I get to take a vacation. My daughter Felicia seems rather pleased.”

 

Tseng blinked. “I see...” He hesitated, then went on. “Sir... Why… did you help me?

 

The commander looked rather nonchalant, despite the danger they had been in. “Since the mission was already complete, I saw no reason not to help you. It’s the same as when you completed your mission before you helped me.”

 

Tseng frowned. “But...Sir, you acted recklessly.”

 

“Hmph,” replied Veld. “Now you’re starting to sound like me. Perhaps I’m still too soft.”

 

Tseng was still pondering Veld’s words. He’d never considered that one could complete the mission _and_ save everyone. It seemed like too much to hope for. “Sir… Thank you.”

 

Veld said that he would be taking a vacation, but only after he found and terminated the leak. The traitor was hiding out near Kalm, and Veld would be heading the operation himself since his family lived in Kalm anyway. Then he gave Tseng a Curaga materia and said to keep it safe while he was away. Tseng didn’t have any idea why he would give something like that when he was about to go back out into the field, but he accepted it nonetheless. Veld then let him rest before his drug-addled brain became any more incoherent.

 

########

 

Tseng would have to stay in the hospital for another week, they said. That left him with too much time and nothing to do with it, other than sit there with his own thoughts.

 

He had a lot of work to do after this. He would be ready to support Veld out in the field, and doing research on the case if asked, and there were new missions to plan while Veld was away--not just for the rookies this time, for _everyone_ \--and he still had Rufus’ schedule to attend to, even if it had been rather sparse lately. The president's son no longer needed a bodyguard for every function that he attended, and he often called upon Shinra Security for such things, along with his trusted guard hound. He hadn’t seen Rufus in a week.

 

And so, when the young man pushed his way into the recovery room without regard for the poor nurse that was escorting him, Tseng was rather surprised. His eyes widened and… his heart leapt. The hours alone with nothing to do had taken their toll. “Sir--!” Tseng struggled to sit up again.

 

“Don't move,” said the teen in a firm voice, as he looked Tseng up and down.

 

Tseng paused in his motion, and relaxed back against his pillows.

  
Rufus stood there, staring for a moment before finally speaking again. “... Are you okay?”

  
Tseng nodded, noting how tense the boy seemed to be. Was he worried? “I'll be fine. They sped up the healing process to augment my natural capabilities, so I should be okay to walk again in a week, sir.”

  
Rufus seemed to be having trouble finding words. “You've never been hurt before.”

  
Tseng frowned in concern. “Not this badly, no, sir.”

  
Rufus began throwing off some statistics. “Half of the new recruits die within the first year. You’ve been lucky not to have lost any of the new ones, but the next forty percent are killed in battle. Every one of the original Turks is dead except for Veld and our operative in Junon. There is only one left from the second generation of Turks. Are you nearing the end of your rope?”

  
Tseng shook his head. “I don't plan on being a mere statistic, sir.”

  
“Nobody plans it!” Rufus suddenly cried, clearly upset.

  
Tseng was shocked into silence. Rufus never raised his voice, except for when extremely upset. Rufus stood there with that outraged look on his face for a moment before calming himself, settling back into his trademark disapproval. He huffed, then folded his arms. “I'm going to visit you until you get better. It won't do to have you out of the loop.”

  
Tseng shifted uncomfortably. “You don't have to do that, sir.”

 

“Yes, well, perhaps you shouldn't have gotten injured,” Rufus countered. “Now you are at the mercy of my every whim.”

  
Tseng couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. “That isn't how it usually is, sir?” His lips betrayed a fraction of a smirk.

  
Rufus frowned, his cheeks reddening. “N-No. You're gone all the time, now.”

  
Tseng gave him a break. “I understand, sir.”

  
Rufus paused, staring at him again. “You're never going to call me by my name, are you?”

  
“No, sir.” Tseng wasn’t going to lie. His habit of formality would not be broken.

  
Rufus huffed again, looking frustrated. “Get better. I don’t want some inexperienced Turk looking after me.”

  
Tseng’s lips twitched upward again in amusement. “Reno isn't good enough for you, sir?”

  
“No,” Rufus said. “He's too lax. I’d hang out with him, but I don’t trust him with my life. Yet.”

  
Tseng nodded. “I'll do my best, sir.”

  
“Good. I'll come by tomorrow. Get better.” And with that, the son of the president turned and left the room.

 

It wasn’t much of an interaction, but at least it gave Tseng something to think about while he sat alone in his hospital room. He had something to look forward to every day, now, even if he wouldn’t admit he needed it.

 

########

 

Veld left the day that Tseng was discharged from the medical wing. He left detailed instructions on how to manage the department while he was away, and answered any questions that the younger Turk might have had, then sent him on his way. Tseng hadn’t thought about the idea much since he’d been under the influence of medication, but Veld had effectively left him in charge. He had never considered the fact that Veld might need a replacement or substitute, since he didn’t count on Veld retiring any time soon, even if he himself was the most experienced Turk other than Goran. And Goran made it very clear that he was not interested in a leadership position. So naturally, Tseng was next in line, even if there were three Turks older than him.

 

His mind raced through all of these things as he made his way back up to Floor 69. Veld was gone. He was in charge. This was a thing that was happening.

 

He felt a little awkwardness at the situation because he had barely survived his first real solo mission, even if it was successful. He had been left in charge of the entire Department of Administrative Research, immediately after almost dying during a mission. How could he expect the others to accept him as their superior when his own judgement had almost gotten him and the commander killed?

 

All he could do was trust _Veld’s_ judgement for choosing him. He wouldn’t let the commander down, even if the others didn’t accept him. He would fulfill his role regardless of the magnitude. He made his way slowly up the stairs to the 69th floor, discovering with distaste that something he did easily for years while healthy was quite a struggle after lying in a bed for a week. He would be heading to the training room at every free moment. He slid his keycard through the reader and the doors slid open to the 69th floor, and he made his way over to the Turk’s corner.

 

He was still sore about that. It had been years, but he was still sore about being shoved into the corner of one floor. He looked up to see Knife at the coffee table reading through a set of files, and Reno messing around in the tiny lounge, as usual.

 

Reno turned away from the coffee maker, which he seemed to be making some odd concoction in, and brightened at Tseng’s entrance. “Hey, you're back from the dead! The commander said you got really messed up, yo.”

 

Tseng frowned. “How many times have I told you to be more formal in your speech, rookie?”

 

“Ah, sorry boss--sir!” Reno stammered.

 

Tseng nodded. “There you go.” The kid was trying, at least. And he responded to Tseng’s warnings instead of ignoring them out of disrespect--something Tseng did not expect out of the kid when he first met him. He had to admit that giving Reno a chance did gain them a skilled Turk.

 

Knife nodded in greeting her superior, and Reno kept talking. “But seriously, does Shinra not have the money to equip its best soldiers with Cure materia? That would save us a lot of trouble. It’s like a free pass to do dangerous shit with no consequences.”

 

“Natural healing is better,” answered Knife. “Besides, you wouldn't know how to use one even if they gave you one.”

 

Reno jabbed a finger in her direction. “Bullshit! I’ve had a mastered Cure since I was six!”

 

Knife gave him an incredulous look and argued with him, while Tseng pondered that for a moment. A six year old with red hair. Suddenly came into possession of a mastered Cure materia. Tseng had lost his to a small child--possibly a six-year-old--eleven years before, and Reno was seventeen. He narrowed his eyes. “Really. Whom did you get it from?”

 

Reno turned from his argument with Knife. “Huh? Oh, who?”

 

“Yes,” Tseng pressed. “Whom did you get a mastered Cure from?”

 

Reno blinked. “Uh, from some guy, he was--” Then his eyes widened. “Wait. _Wait._ The dot on his forehead! You!?”

 

Tseng took great pleasure in watching the young man squirm, and smirked wordlessly.

 

Reno grimaced in his embarrassment. “Oh, shit. You’re the guy. This is awkward.”

 

Tseng’s narrowed gaze didn’t waver. “Do you know how long it takes to master a Cure materia, Reno?”

 

Reno swallowed nervously. “Uh… It depends on the rate of use?”

 

Tseng nodded. “Correct. I think you should find out how long it takes you.” He reached into his pocket and took out his almost brand-new Cure he spent a small fortune on only _days_ before Veld gave him that Curaga. This was unfortunate for his wallet, but fortunate for Reno because now he had a brand new materia to train with. He held it out to Reno, smirk unwavering.

 

“Ah come on,” Reno complained.  “It's got sentimental value, now!”

 

Tseng drew his mouth into a thin line, his stance standing firm. “You can have it back once you master this one.”

 

“Damn it…” Reno complained again under his breath.

 

Tseng frowned harder. “Damn it, what?”

 

“Damn it, sir!” Reno yelled in response. He slapped his old materia into Tseng’s hand.

 

Tseng gave a curt nod, then placed the new materia into Reno’s hand. “Better. Now go train with that until you drop.”

 

“Sir, yes sir!” Reno saluted, then ran off down the stairs to Turks HQ.

 

Knife welcomed Tseng back to work, and then went to go turn in her paperwork, supposedly, and Tseng was left with nothing else to do but his own paperwork. So he set about doing that for the rest of the day, pausing occasionally to take a run up and down the stairs for exercise. Jet bugged him through the wall, as she’d noticed she could do with the thin walls, and things were back to normal, it seemed. Except that the commander wasn’t there.

 

Nothing seemed different, except that Tseng was the one giving the orders. Nobody questioned him or gave him any trouble, as he had feared would happen. There was no complaining about who got to be in command while Veld was away. It was fairly obvious that nobody else wanted the job, and that they were comfortable with Tseng in command.

 

It was clear that Veld had chosen Tseng as a successor. Once Veld decided to retire, Tseng would most likely take over.

 

Tseng decided to _not_ think about that, and go about his duties with the comforting thought that Veld would return, soon.

 

########

 

Tseng was on his way to deliver a report on a mission that was being transferred to Lazard’s department when he first met the Puppy-SOLDIER.

 

He had just made it out of the stairwell on the 51st floor, and down the hallway a few steps when a boy with unruly black hair and the uniform of a Third Class bounded down the hall towards him, with a huge grin on his face. Tseng’s eyes widened and he dodged to the side just in time for the boy to run past. Moments later, another Third ran after him, shouting “Zack, don’t bother the Firsts or you’ll _die!”_

 

The Puppy-SOLDIER’s name was Zack. Noted.

 

########

 

Tseng received one last update on the leak investigation Veld had been heading. He would send an airstrike to the enemy hideout, killing the leak, and putting a stop to his treasonous operations.

 

The next report that Tseng received said that the entire town of Kalm was destroyed, and Veld was in critical condition.

 

… _What!?_

 

He read the report further, unable to understand how such a thing had occurred. The air strike was ordered to descend over Kalm, instead of the target that was a few miles from the town. Had the target moved? Were there complications? How had Veld gotten injured?

 

Wasn’t his family in Kalm? That had been why he was eager to go, right?

 

Tseng’s mind buzzed with these thoughts as he tried to put together a coherent announcement for his Turks.

 

########

 

Adrian tapped his foot nervously. He’d seen the report. They all had, Veld was in critical condition, and dear Professor Greasy Hair was trying to keep him alive. Kalm had been destroyed in the attempt to eradicate a leak.

 

The final report had been that there was a misunderstanding. The audio cut out right when Veld had given the location of the leak. All they heard was “Kalm”, and they didn’t question it. The air squad responsible was being dealt with severely for failing to confirm the target before firing. Such a mistake had cost the lives of everyone in the town… including the commander’s family. And if the Professor didn’t have his way, then Veld would be lost as well.

 

The worst thing about it was how easily the world took the news. An entire town had been wiped off the map, but nobody was up in arms about it. They went about their daily lives, and forgot about it. Even the president, who had been so incredibly angry about losing a senior Turk to defection the year before, cared nothing about an entire town. It was merely a simple mistake, and as long as the responsible parties were being dealt with then there was no problem. It was sickening.

 

Meanwhile, until Veld returned-- _if_ he returned--Tseng had ordered Adrian and Cissnei to find the leak and eradicate him. Just rush in, rush out. No fuss at all. That’s the way it should have been done in the first place, instead of sending a fucking _air strike_ down on the target. But the president did love his toys, and wanted every reason to use them it seemed.

 

Adrian sighed. It was time to get dirty again, and then come home and remain utterly unaffected by the job. Slicing and dicing anti-Shinra personnel, just all in a day’s work.

 

########

 

Veld was alive. He was stable.

 

Tseng released a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding as he read the report. The commander was being held in the ICU, and it was unclear when he would return, but Professor Hojo was sure that the procedure had been a success. Tseng had wondered what procedure until he read the medical report.

 

_Patient received prosthetic replacement for upper-left extremity. Materia enhancement requested, currently researching._

 

Veld’s arm was gone? And it seemed he’d asked for the materia enhancement so he would not be kept from fighting alongside his men. He wasn’t about to give up. The thought was heartening, even if it was coupled with the fact that Veld had lost his _arm_.

 

He’d lost his arm, _and_ his family. Would he really be fit to work, after this?

 

He was brought out of this reverie temporarily with a report notification. Apparently, Hojo was miffed that one of his research samples got out in Nibelheim. He sighed, and looked through his list of available Turks to assign the job to. At least Rufus was understanding about the whole Tseng-can-never-be-there-for-you-because-he’s-the-backup-commander-for-the-Turks thing. Tseng offered to have Rude be his bodyguard until Veld was back, but Rufus politely declined. He said that the Turks had better things to do, and that he would choose his own private security from then on, and only use the Turks if absolutely necessary. He was old enough to decide these things himself, now.

 

Tseng sighed. Did that mean they would see each other even _less?_ Probably.

 

########

 

The Avatar’s financial benefactor had been taken out. They no longer had a steady source of income, thanks to the Turks.

 

Rufus saw this as a golden opportunity.

 

He messaged the Avatar.

 

 **[10:46:37] <ND_457802>** My intelligence claims that the mole for Shinra’s enemies was found and eliminated. I assume that was your financier?

 

 **[10:47:09] <En-7843>** It was merely someone that helped us find funds, nobody of consequence. We are still in a good position.

 

That meant that they still had a pool of resources, but it would dwindle if they didn’t find another financier, Rufus mused.

 

 **[10:47:28] <ND_457802>** I think I can help you get into a better position, with my access to resources and information.

 

There was a pause. Rufus sat on the edge of his seat.

 

 **[10:49:32] <En-7843>** We would accept anything you have to offer.

 

Rufus smirked. It was time for business.

 

########

 

It had been eleven years.

 

Eleven years since the SOLDIER parade, where he’d fucked up and let that woman see him. Eleven years since all this could have been avoided, and instead he’d messed up and started a war.

 

Their second attempt some years back had been a complete bust, but at least they’d tested the building’s security. It was almost impenetrable, and then SOLDIER was too strong and too fast in their reactions for anyone to get anything done, let alone find the president and assassinate him.

 

When they’d tried to take out the Turks in Wutai, they’d only hit two of them. They wouldn’t be so easily tricked in the future. Nothing that AVALANCHE tried was going right. And then there was the issue of that weapons dealer betraying Claude’s faction earlier in the year. They hadn’t found Claude’s body, so he was probably just gone. No one blamed him, after losing all of his men to betrayal.

 

Then suddenly this new guy walks in like he owns them? Like he’s gonna save them? He says he has a financial backer, but where the fuck did this all come from? Now he was bringing in gangs and mercenaries and consolidating all of AVALANCHE’s power that had been previously autonomous to regions. He said that centralizing their force would only pack a bigger punch against Shinra, and the people of AVALANCHE were believing him. This new guy was their leader, when they hadn’t really had one before.

 

He didn't wanna fight anymore. But they had to. Shinra was killing the Planet. If this new guy Fuhito could save the planet, then he would stay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’m not a hacker I just looked up pictures of what hacker conversations look like lmao those user handles are just random numbers and letters I chose. Yaaaaay, Rufus is a patricidal traitor!


	13. A New Beginning: Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LEGENDARY TURK IS HEEEERE I love him okay. Also Rufus continues to be an asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is out later than I said, I finished my Hell Semester and proceeded to sleep for 3 weeks. Another update will be soonish!

The years had been spent trying to root out anti-Shinra militants, but they hadn’t found anyone of actual consequence. They were very good at hiding. They seemed to be getting more and more skilled, with better equipment. They were getting their money from somewhere, and it was the Turks’ job to find it.

 

Veld had returned after about a month of recovery, looking much the same as before, except for his prosthetic left arm and completely serious air about him. The way he’d addressed the Turks upon his return was short and curt, and though that was usual for the commander Tseng felt something was off. He figured nobody could get through what Veld did unscathed. The commander didn’t mention his family, or the loss of his arm, but he did say that he would continue to serve alongside his comrades if need be. Hojo must have been successful in his materia augmentation experiment; it seemed to work with Veld’s arm the same way it would being equipped to a weapon with a materia slot. Veld would be even more powerful than he was before.

 

He seemed emotionally distant, though, and didn’t have that same mischievous humor in his eyes that so often set Tseng at ease. His reprimanding was merciless, and though he wasn’t any harder on them than before it certainly felt like it without the humor to cushion the blow. He wouldn’t tolerate failure, and Tseng didn’t blame him. He probably didn’t want to lose anyone else. Tseng did his best to take pressure off of the commander and make things easier on him.

 

Rufus had grown into quite the independent young man. He hardly ever called on Tseng for anything anymore, so Tseng had to sit down for a moment when he realized that two years had gone by since his release from house arrest. He’d hardly seen anything of the boy in two years. Tseng had been busy working with Veld trying to root out anti-Shinra militants, and Rufus had been working tirelessly gaining support and influence in the company. The only complaint Tseng ever heard about the boy was that he was rude and antagonistic, and Tseng found himself glad that hadn’t changed. He was still fiercely passionate about his beliefs, even if he had simmered down after being put under house arrest. He was doing quite well… from what Tseng had heard. The most he had seen of Rufus was a three-hour meeting between the Shinra executives and the CEO of a rival company. Rufus hadn’t had time to speak to him personally in two years.

 

Tseng sighed. That was fine. He had his own work to keep him busy. He opened the door to the 60th floor stairwell and was immediately assaulted with the clambering sound of an older teen running up the stairs. Reno practically dove onto the last landing and coughed, panting hard, lying on his back while Tseng blinked and stared.

 

“... Are you alright, rookie?”

 

Reno panted some more, seemingly unable to answer. He reached for his phone, which had gone sliding into the wall after he’d let go of it when he dove onto the landing. He brought the screen in front of his face, then groaned and let his arm fall to the side again. “No,” he panted, “Because I can’t… fucking beat her…  _ shit, how is she so fast?” _

 

Tseng blinked some more as Reno continued to breathlessly complain about not being able to beat a record. “How far were you off by?”

 

“Three seconds!” yelled Reno, still panting. “And she broke her old record yesterday, so I don’t even know what that one is!”

 

Tseng blinked again. “Well. You know, she’s been at it longer than you have. Just keep at it.”

 

“This isn’t physically possible, though!  Five minutes and thirty-seven seconds should be impossible!”

 

Tseng raised his eyebrows. That  _ should _ be physically impossible, for anyone except Sephiroth. He could probably just fly up the stairwell with his inhuman skills. “You’re doing exemplary work. Just keep at it, and maybe you’ll catch up to her one day.”

 

Reno stared as his breath finally started to calm down. “Did you just praise me?”

 

Tseng scoffed. “You look like you need it.”

 

“Gee,  _ thank you,  _ sir!” Reno continued to lie on the floor, seemingly having ripped his thighs to shreds. Tseng stepped over him and made his way to his destination, smirking.

 

########

 

Rufus sat signing a few more papers while the president finished up yet another  _ successful _ executive meeting (it wasn’t successful, they were  _ never _ successful, and Rufus gave up years ago trying to change his father’s mind about anything). The president dismissed them, and Rufus gathered his papers, going right up to the man with an expectant look.

 

The president frowned at him. “What do you want? If you wanted to add to the conversation, you should have said it during the meeting.”

 

Rufus smiled, fakely. “I didn't want anyone to feel that there was any kind of favoritism, sir, since I am sure my plan will work.”  _ You wouldn't want your executives to think you approved of anything I did, would you?  _ he thought.

 

The president raised his eyes. “Oh, really? And what plan is that, that is  _ sure _ to work, when nothing my other advisors have offered has convinced this stubborn fool?” Rufus was seventeen, and the president still had that patronizing air that he had used when Rufus was five. It was infuriating.

 

Rufus ignored it. He had learned that was the best response to such treatment. “Let me speak to him. I have a convincing argument that he cannot refuse.”

 

The president laughed. “You think you can conduct a better business negotiation than I can? Preposterous!”

 

Rufus didn’t react. “I think it would be a perfect opportunity for some experience, father. If I am to ever have hope of taking over for you one day, such experience is necessary. And even then, should I fail to convince him, you will not have lost anything. Is this satisfactory?”

 

The president was quite amused. He allowed it, daring Rufus not to make a fool of himself. Rufus smirked.

 

Three days later, Rufus came back with a contract, signed by the western-continent based company that stated that their companies were now joined. The president of Shinra Inc. effectively owned that company, with no extra expenses negotiated.

 

Rufus reveled in the president’s awe. “Incredible! What did you have to say?”

 

Rufus flipped his hair out of his eyes, nonchalantly. “I simply convinced him that merging with us would put him in a better position after the war ended. He was quick to agree to the terms once I outlined my argument fully.”  _ After he realized, with great fear, that after we destroy Wutai their company will be utterly obsolete, _ he thought. He was actually surprised the president hadn’t thought to say that. The man really was a fool. Fear was always a greater motivator than money.

 

The president seemed astounded. “Good work, very good work! I must admit, I didn’t think this was possible. Good work, my son.”

 

Rufus fought with every ounce of his being not to sneer at those words. If only they were true.

 

_ If he sees another thing that is unsatisfactory, he’ll go right back to mocking my efforts, _ Rufus thought.  _ The fool will never see my plan coming. _

 

He’d set a precedent for the president allowing him to take business deals. That was just another step towards him wrenching this wretched company from his father’s hands.

 

########

 

Tseng hadn’t thought about the man in close to three years. He had made a habit of specifically  _ not _ thinking about certain traumatic things, because they got in the way of his work and put him in a bad mood. So when he saw the man with the flaming orange hair and the sunglasses staring back at him as he walked into Veld’s office to be briefed for a mission, one could understand why the first thing he did was pull out his handgun and aim it right at the man’s face.

 

The man with the orange hair’s smirk dropped right off his face. “Shit.”

 

Tseng’s eyes burned with fury. “Sir, this man was responsible for the deaths of two of our comrades!” Not to mention he broke Tseng’s  _ hand. _

 

Veld’s only response was to raise a hand to calm him. “Relax, Tseng. I recruited him.”

 

Tseng frowned in both confusion and anger. “Sir, he was the enemy! He was an anti-shinra mercenary!”

 

“Tseng!” Veld barked. “Put down your gun and let me explain.”

 

Tseng was frozen in confusion. He wouldn’t lower his gun because to do so was completely preposterous in his mind at that time. Why would Veld order him to do that, when there was a very clear enemy right in front of them?

 

The man with the sunglasses sneered at him. “Hey. Try and shoot me, and I’ll beat the stuffing out of you. Don’t you think it’s pretty cheap to threaten a man with your gun out?”

 

Tseng burned with outrage. “What!?”

 

“Tseng!” Veld barked one last time. “I have not forgotten what happened in Wutai three years ago. I understand how you feel, but  _ restrain _ yourself for now. I called him here.”

 

Tseng looked between his superior whom he deeply respected, and the man he desperately wanted to put in a cell, then finally lowered his gun. “I don’t understand, sir.” He didn’t understand why Veld would trust someone who had  _ murdered their comrades. _

 

“His past aside, you should be well aware of his prowess,” Veld said, much too calmly.

 

“Yes, sir,” Tseng said, begrudgingly. After they met during that fateful battle in Wutai, Tseng heard plenty of stories about the ‘Grim Reaper of the Battlefield’, a man that even gave SOLDIER a hard time. He was a mercenary hired by one of the many anti-Shinra groups, but they hadn’t been able to locate him again in three years. After that year, the Grim Reaper just dropped off the map completely.

 

He may have been a mercenary, but he hadn’t seemed too detached when he’d spoken those few words to Tseng. He’d called the Wutai combatants his friends. Tseng didn’t trust him for a second. And Veld had  _ recruited him? _ How in the world had he done that?

 

Veld explained that even as the war with Wutai was drawing to a close, there were still growing numbers of anti-Shinra activity. A new enemy had emerged alongside Wutai, and they needed every bit of help they could get, and this man could bring them an invaluable advantage. He knew the Wutai front and was involved with anti-Shinra groups, and he was willing to share his information. It was infuriating, but Veld had a point. Whatever this man had done was in the past, and Tseng would have to sort out his personal feelings later. Veld had given him orders, and he would follow them.

 

But if this man even  _ suggested _ that he had any kind of animosity towards Shinra, Tseng would be well within his orders to take him out.

 

Tseng did his best not to glare at the man. “What is your name?” he asked.

 

The man with the sunglasses stared for a moment, or he seemed to from behind his glasses. “Me?”

 

“Yes.” Tseng said, curtly. He didn’t want to speak any more to this man than he absolutely had to.

 

The man gave a wry smirk. “You can call me Legend.”

 

Tseng blinked. “All right.” Legend? Really? People usually used their weapon as an alias. And as Tseng remembered, the man used bombs. Well, Bomb would be a dumb name, so Tseng supposed Legend would have to do for now.

 

Legend turned to Veld again. “Hey, old man, let’s get this show on the road. I’m bad with long-winded explanations.”

 

Tseng blinked in outrage. This man was worse than Reno with formalities! And who was he calling old? He looked… well, he looked older, as well. Around Goran’s age, Tseng supposed. He frowned in disapproval.

 

“Then I assume you don’t want a detailed explanation of the mission?” Veld asked.

 

“No thank you,” said Legend.

 

“Good,” Veld nodded. “Then be on your way.”

 

Tseng stood in confusion as Veld turned to him. “Tseng. You’ll be supporting him. I’ll send the details of the mission to your phone.”

 

Tseng nodded. “Understood, sir. I’ll fill him in on the way.”

 

“I’m counting on you,” replied the commander.

 

Tseng  _ didn’t _ understand why Legend expected him to brief him on the way, or why he was in charge of the mission while Tseng only supported when Legend was only a new recruit, but nevertheless Tseng went along with it. Veld had his reasons, and Tseng would obey his orders… even if he did question them.

 

########

 

They both got into a chopper and traveled to the designated mission location as Tseng briefed Legend on the details. They were to infiltrate a secret arms factory and clear out the rebels that had occupied it, and rescue the owner that was being held hostage there. After just that small explanation, Legend had lost interest and turned the conversation towards other things, while Tseng simmered beside him.

 

Legend mentioned that he had actually been recruited two years before, and was kept an absolute secret for the most covert of operations. Tseng felt a pang of outrage and jealousy at this discovery, and grew even more outraged when Legend said he was good friends with Goran. The older Turk had kept this a secret for two years, probably on Veld’s orders. Tseng trusted Veld, but he didn’t trust a man who switched sides so easily. Right after meeting on the battlefield, Leged suddenly had a change of heart and joined Shinra? It was suspicious, and Tseng had no idea why Veld would trust such a man.

 

Legend eventually got tired of Tseng’s cold regard and sighed. “Look. For the record, I didn't kill your friends back in Wutai. I taught other people how to. It was a job. And I wasn't trying to kill you. I'm not some monster who enjoys killing, all right? Even now, it's just a job.”

 

Tseng was silent for a long moment, still not completely believing him. “... Fine.”

 

“Alright, suit yourself. Mr. Boring Turk. Goran tells me all the time how you should loosen up.”

 

Tseng almost lashed out at that remark, demanding to know what  _ else _ Goran had said about the rest of the Turks, but he restrained himself. For one, it wasn’t worth it; two, Goran would never say anything that wasn’t at least mostly true; and three, Legend was probably lying to get under his skin. Tseng wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

 

They touched down a ways from the factory, and they went to get into position. Tseng went to find a good vantage point, and Legend went off to do whatever it was he did before a mission. A little while after Tseng got into position, he called Legend.

 

_ “Heeey, what’s my job again?”  _ said the older Turk, apparently unconcerned that he had forgotten the details.

 

Tseng sighed in frustration. “Go over the mission details again.”

 

_ “Save some kidnapped geezer and wipe out the kidnappers, right?” _

 

Tseng forced himself not to react. It was going to be a long day. “He’s not some geezer. His name is Mr. Rayner.”

 

_ “Anyway, he’s an arms dealer.” _ Tseng could almost hear Legend waving him off.

 

“Correct,” said Tseng. “ He has ties to Shinra. The occupied arms factory belongs to his company.”

 

“ _ So what are the kidnappers’ demands?” _ asked Legend.

 

“We just received them.” Tseng read them off from memory. “The first is funds for their operations.”

 

_ “Give them money then.”  _ Legend interrupted.

 

Tseng drew his mouth into a thin line. “The second is the release of political prisoners held at Corel Prison.”

 

_ “Return their buddies then.” _

 

“Shinra is not in a situation where it can comply with their demands,” replied Tseng, patiently. “That arms factory is secret, it goes without saying that we can’t let the world know of its existence.”

 

_ “… Sheesh. Rebels are all so greedy.” _

 

“Is that talking from experience?” Tseng cursed himself. He’d blurted that out without thinking.

 

_ “Who knows?”  _ Legend said, not rising to the bait.  _ “How many of them are there?” _

 

“About forty,” Tseng replied, ignoring his embarrassment.

 

_ “Nice odds.” _

 

Tseng clenched his jaw at the man’s indifference. “How will you infiltrate?”

 

_ “I’ll take the front door.” _

 

Tseng blinked, and then realized Legend probably wasn’t kidding. “Are you serious!?”

 

_ “I’ll break it down with my own hands.” _

 

Tseng clenched his jaw harder. Would they be able to finish on time? The kidnappers would kill the hostage if they didn’t hurry. ”I’ll be on standby in the vicinity. If there’s any trouble, I’ll rush in.”

 

Legend ignored him  _ “Hey, Tseng. How about a little bet? How fast do you reckon I can finish this job? I say ten minutes, what about you?” _

 

Tseng frowned. “I don’t gamble on principle.”

 

_ “Don’t be so uptight. You’re not a very popular guy, are ya?” _

 

Legend was trying to rile him up again. “Your question does not deserve an answer. Anyway…” He was a little curious. “Do you really believe you can complete the mission in such a short time?”

 

_ “I sure do,” he said without hesitation. _

 

Tseng nodded. _ “I see. While a pro never gambles, I’d like to watch you work. Let’s see if you can complete the mission within ten minutes, just like you said.” _ Tseng smirked. He wasn’t interested in gambling, but he did want to hold Legend to his own word.

 

_ “Tch,” _ Legend finally uttered, irritated.  _ “You’re messin’ up my rhythm.” _

 

Legend actually held true on his decision to break the front door down. He quickly dispatched the mercenaries that noticed him and made his way inside. He lured the closest of the mercenaries on that floor towards a bomb that he activated with a remote, then called Tseng.

 

Tseng didn’t want to know how the ones on the floor above were reacting to the loud blasts, and he just shook his head. “You’ve been successful so far, are you ready for the next stage of the plan?”

 

_ “Which floor is the hostage on?”  _ asked Legend.

 

“He’s mostly being held on the second floor,” Tseng replied.

 

_ “ Hm. There should be five support pillars, am I right?” _

 

Tseng blinked. “That is correct.”

 

_ “Good. I’m planting bombs on the pillars.” _

 

Tseng blinked again, wondering what he was planning to do. Wouldn’t that collapse the entire building? “On all five of them? Will you be able to do it before the enemy notices you?”

 

_ “Who knows?” _ replied Legend with the same careless attitude he’d kept for the entire mission.

 

The man was certainly efficient in his work, even if he was completely unconcerned with being noticed by enemies. He quickly dispatched any enemies that engaged him, and finished putting up the bombs. Tseng called again to confirm. “It’s me.”

 

_ “Man, isn’t it about time you put on a nice girl, instead?” _

 

Tseng didn’t hesitate. “You’ll have to make due with me.”

 

_ “If it ain’t my lucky day...”  _ Legend drawled into the phone.

 

Tseng brushed off the taunts. “What is your next move?”

 

_ “It’s time to attack.” _

 

“Listen,” Tseng started, “make sure to keep the damage to a minim--”

 

_ “Don’t sweat it. Fussy guys aren’t popular with the ladies, don’cha know?” _

 

Tseng drew his mouth into a thin line again. “I wish you luck.” Then he hung up.

 

Tseng waited while Legend finished the mission, and monitored his location on his phone. Legend took out the rest of the guards on the second floor, then made his way to the room where the hostage was being held.

 

And that’s where everything went wrong. Tseng didn’t hear anything that went on, of course, but he heard when Legend detonated the bombs attached to the pillars while he was  _ still rescuing the hostage. _ Was he insane!? He waited a moment to see what Legend’s plan was, and when Legend’s GPS marker didn’t move at all he called. “It’s me! Is Mr. Rayner safe? Hurry up and get out before the building collapses!”

 

Legend still didn’t seem concerned.  _ “Hey Tseng,”  _ he started, using Tseng’s name for once.  _ “Tell ol’ man Veld that I ran into someone from two years ago.” _

 

And then he hung up. “Hey--!” Tseng exclaimed, his mind racing. What was he  _ doing--!? _ There was no way he could get out with a hostage in time!

 

He didn’t get out with a hostage. Legend came out alone, and the building collapsed. Tseng’s heart dropped into his stomach and he called as fast as his fingers could move. “What the hell happened!?”

 

Legend still had that  _ infuriatingly  _ carefree voice as he explained how he let a hostage die when he was  _ right there. “Well, you know. I just didn’t really like the guy.” _

 

“You had one job, Legend!” Tseng seethed. Did he  _ actually _ let a man die because he didn’t like him!? This is exactly why Tseng didn’t trust him!

 

_ “Yeah, I’m a bad Turk. Maybe you should punish me.” _

 

Tseng almost threw his phone. He snapped it shut and seethed with fury. How could he be so calm!? He’d just left an important Shinra affiliate to die! Tseng should have rushed in when he felt something was wrong. Veld would hear about this.

 

He almost left Legend behind. Thankfully, Legend didn’t try to make conversation for the entire trip, and Tseng left Legend to check in the chopper while he went to report to Veld. This Turk was doomed, and Tseng felt no sympathy for him.

 

########

 

Legend was placed on house arrest in Costa Del Sol until further notice.

 

Tseng would have lost his composure completely if he hadn’t heard it from Veld himself. The man had abandoned his mission as a Turk, leaving an important Shinra affiliate behind to die, and for that was being placed on house arrest on the  _ beach!? _

 

Veld explained, and Tseng understood a little better. Legend had completed the most important part of the mission--that was, keeping the secret arms factory information a secret. It was less than ideal that he had let the hostage die, but it was not necessary for the mission to succeed. Furthermore, the hostage was the person that Legend had known from two years before, who was responsible for Legend’s entire anti-Shinra faction getting wiped out during an offensive. He betrayed his comrades to go work for Shinra.

 

Tseng remembered the case vaguely, though the Turks weren’t involved. He had no idea Mr. Rayner had been involved in something so underhanded, but he understood. He had helped the company Tseng worked for, so he couldn’t be angry about that. But he also couldn’t be angry at Legend for letting the man die when he was clearly not a good person.

 

So Veld had decided that disposing of Legend because of such an infraction would be a loss to the company. Tseng still didn’t approve of letting a man die like that, but he understood. The burning indignation he felt towards Legend was gone, and replaced with mere disapproval.

 

Veld decided that Legend’s affiliation with the Turks didn’t need to be a secret any longer, since he probably wouldn’t be working in such covert operations in the future. Veld did indeed avoid the most severe punishment for his subordinate, he still backed up his usual merciless discipline by exiling him from the Turks indefinitely.

 

Tseng still didn’t approve, but Veld was always right. Legend would enjoy his time on the beach, and Tseng wouldn’t have to see him ever again, hopefully.

 

########

 

It seemed as though things were finally starting to simmer down. The war had gone on for seven years, and it was clear who would be the victor. There were still anti-Shinra militants coming out of the woodwork to fight, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. No major incidents had happened since that massacre three years before. Tseng had settled into his role as Veld’s unofficial second-in-command nicely, taking on many more responsibilities than he had before.

 

Those responsibilities were of course on top of guarding Rufus, but those duties had much been replaced by Shinra Security and other agents. The Turks were reserved for what they had been originally intended--namely that which doesn’t involve babysitting. Tseng had been a bodyguard for over a decade simply because the president had willed it, even though it wasn’t typically a Turk’s job, and now he was back to doing solely what he was intended to do. He was a leader, now, and he didn’t have time for any bodyguard assignments that weren’t of the utmost importance.

 

He missed that, though. He hardly ever saw Rufus anymore, except in passing. The boy never confided in him, anymore, and Tseng wondered in whom he did. He could ask Reno, but he had a sneaking suspicion Rufus didn’t confide in  _ him _ either. Rufus had grown distant from everyone, and much more focused than he had been before he was placed under house arrest for a year. The boy was cold and calculating, and looked like he was preparing for something. Tseng wanted to think that he was just preparing to be the vice president and taking it seriously, but he got a bad feeling from the boy.

 

One thing that hadn’t changed was the boy’s merciless dragging of anyone he felt wasn’t up to par. He was still bitingly offensive, however not to a point where he would get into trouble with his father. He chose his words very carefully, and when signs showed that he was going too far he backed off. The boy had learned restraint.

 

Still, Tseng had a bad feeling. Maybe when Rufus became vice president, that feeling would go away.

 

########

 

Plans were moving forward nicely. Rufus was already a master of altering accounts and moving credits around as he wished, and Shinra personnel were so disorganized that they would never notice, but even so Rufus made sure that all the numbers added up just in case. There was still a chance that someone could notice he was recording his income incorrectly, but they would have to examine his individual employee record to figure that out, and nobody would ever do that. And if anyone expressed the need to do so, he would simply change the numbers to reflect what he needed for that amount of time. They wouldn’t go all the way back. And even if they did, he had more plans for that contingency. He was ten steps ahead of his father at all times.

 

As for his plans with the Avatar, they were moving slowly. For now, they were buying weapons and training soldiers, and the Avatar said they were experimenting with the process used to create SOLDIER. The plan was obviously to create something that was even stronger than Shinra’s most elite military force. Rufus wondered if this person or group had worked with Hojo ever before. Either that, or they had stolen his research, and Rufus was fine with that.

 

Rufus had no way of figuring out who the Avatar was. However, the Avatar was in the same situation, so they were both safe in the arms of mutual ignorance. They were still distrustful of one another, and that air of distrust was keeping them from doing anything revealing. However, it was becoming increasingly difficult to do business without actually meeting. Rufus mentioned that once he started seeing real results from the use of his funds, they would meet.

 

In order to meet with this unknown entity, it would need to be in secret--and in order for that to be, Rufus had to either place his safety in the hands of company enemies, hire his own private security detail in secret and have loose ends to tie up, or use Shinra security and find a way to use them without any of them realizing just how illegal this meeting was. The first option was out of the question, the second would involve more people and create loose ends, and the third would be incredibly difficult but it was the only option he had. He had to find a way to make these meetings look like business ventures, and think up valid stories for every single one so that everyone involved with the meeting was told the same information. He had to back it up with evidence--dates and times, the names of actual people that wouldn’t cause trouble for him in the future if they figured out he had secretly met with them when he actually didn’t, even more forged files and travel plans--he sighed.

 

Maybe it would be easier to just let the Avatar handle it. It wasn’t in the Avatar’s interest to kill him, so he would be protected.

 

... The part of him that distrusted everyone but himself told him to find another way.

 

########

 

The tradition of hiring new Turk cadets out of the Academy had already been broken with the hiring Knife, Reno and Rude when they’d had no prior training. With the recent spike in anti-Shinra activity, Veld felt that it was once again time to bolster their forces. He put forward the motion that Turks would no longer be required to graduate from the Academy, and that they would mostly be recruiting from the streets. Furthermore, no official observation was required, only an interview with an authorized Turk operative. However they would require a certain age limit for those taken from outside Shinra, since they would most likely be called to the field immediately. They needed experience, and the mental fortitude to handle such responsibilities that only adults had.

 

One of the two newest Turks recruited was a man looking to escape Don Corneo’s wrath. He’d grown weary of his service under the man, and The Don was not pleased when he’d elected to leave. Tseng didn’t blame him. The man went by the alias “Two Guns”, and was positively fatal in his abilities as a marksman. Half of his face was covered by his haircut, yet it did nothing to diminish his skill. The saying was that by the time you saw his face you were already dead.

 

The second of them was a small, boyish-looking young man from a rich family in Bone Village, who had practically begged to join. Tseng was about to send him away, but Veld had insisted on seeing his skills--and when he destroyed a practice dummy with only a pair of nunchucks Tseng was forced to hire him. He went by the name Nun, because the name “Nunchaku” wasn’t cute enough.

 

He’d also expressed his gratitude at being hired into the most prestigious department with the best uniform. He let it be known that he very much loved the uniform, and it was ninety-percent of the reason he’d wanted to join. Okay.

 

The two were sent into the field immediately. Two Guns did not do well working with others, but he would turn around eventually. For now he was sent on solo missions. Nun would do fine as a bodyguard and as reconnaissance. With these additions, the Turks were well-balanced and ready for whatever the anti-Shinra militants had to give them.

 

########

 

They’d finally hit upon a lead. There was a disjointed money trail that suddenly dropped off in some places and started up in other places, so it was almost impossible to track, but they’d found a lead. And after examining the files found at their latest bust, the Turks found a location of a factory.

 

These rebels weren’t messing around. They weren’t just mercenaries anymore--they were all trained soldiers with a common belief that Shinra was evil and had to be eradicated. None of the prisoners talked, even if Shinra could capture any of them before they committed suicide. Shinra’s leads had to come from the evidence, instead of the word of any prisoners they had.

 

Goran was sent out to investigate the coordinates they’d found mentioned in many supply shipping files. He was to infiltrate and find the main computer, steal their files and destroy the computer, as well as quietly dispatch any enemies he encountered.

 

From the moment he entered the factory, he knew it was no normal factory. It was a  _ lab. _ There were monsters like that Hojo guy had, either in large tanks or in pens. There were soldiers patrolling the halls and the upper level, and training in small groups at the center of the structure. Goran sighed at the sight. They were just trying to live. Who was he to deny them that?

 

This was his job, though. He figured whomever was destined to come out on top, would. At this rate, it would probably be Shinra. He just had to get back with the data on these experiments--though that might prove difficult for him. There were guards everywhere, and he only had so many knives.

 

He used his usual strategy of taking them out from a distance and then rushing in to retrieve his knives, carefully monitoring their patrols. There was little point in hiding the bodies, since they’d notice right away if an entire patrol suddenly stopped responding, so he just had to hurry in and out before anyone noticed.

 

He finished taking out the patrols between him and the main computer room on the second level. He broke into the room easily--there was an old-fashioned lock instead of a keypad, what the hell, man?--and rushed over to the computer. His heart pumped steadily faster as time went on; he loved the thrill of a difficult mission that could go horribly wrong if he just wasn’t fast enough. He watched the download progress bar inch across the screen as his mind raced,  _ Just gotta finish this before anyone notices--! _

 

A klaxon blared throughout the structure. Goran’s heart jumped into his throat, and then he sighed. His chances of getting out alive had just plummeted into the ground. Well, he wasn’t dead  _ yet, _ so there was still  _ one _ chance. He finished the download, then took the computer and smashed it on the ground, kicking the case off and stabbing one of his knives through the hard drive. He didn’t know if that would destroy the data for sure, but he didn’t have time to light the thing on fire or anything. He raced out the door to make himself as scarce as possible.

 

There were three times as many patrols as when he’d come up, so there was no way he was getting out of here unseen. He carefully and quickly took out soldier after soldier between him and the stairs down on the second level, but a group of soldiers at the other end of the hall yelled when they saw him. He dashed down another hall, since they’d probably alerted the guys at the bottom of the stairs to come up that way.

 

Shit. Was he gonna have to jump through a window? That always fucked up his knees, these days. He dashed down the hall hoping to get to the end before the soldiers behind him rounded the corner and shot at him, and just about ran into one coming from his right.

 

He stabbed them in the neck without hesitation. He turned to their squad mates and threw knives with deadly accuracy through their visors, hitting them in the eyes and face. The lucky ones died instantly while the unlucky ones screamed in pain. He turned to see another one raise his gun to shoot, and threw the knife into his neck. He didn’t look back to see the man clawing at the knife as blood spurted out of his carotid artery. He sped back down the hall and heard more coming from around the corner. He drew another knife and held it in front of him, ready to bring it around and stab someone waiting for him around the corner--

 

There was a loud gunshot right in his ear and pain exploded in his hand. He stumbled into the wall from the shock as he dropped the knife and turned to see who had just blown a hole in his hand.

 

Shit. He hadn’t noticed this hall had another corner. He wasn’t paying enough attention. He hadn’t heard the gun cock closer to him than he’d think, and therefore didn't notice the hiding space where the man with the slicked back brown hair and glasses now stood, with his cold stare and his revolver still smoking. He'd only had time enough to look with his peripherals and get that vague an image.

 

The guy was fast; Goran didn’t have time to move out of the way. The gun was pointed right at the side of his head. They said that in the face of death, your life flashed before your eyes, but all Goran saw was the muzzle of that revolver out of the corner of his eye.

 

Well, shit.

 

########

 

Fuhito fired once into the man’s hand, and then another time immediately after into the side of his head. The Turk crumpled to the floor with a satisfying  _ thud, _ and Fuhito let out the breath he’d been holding in. He shouldn't have held the breath, but it was a bad habit that he’d formed under pressure. He would have to work on it if he wanted to continue to be successful in the field.

 

He looked down at the dead Turk at his feet as his men skid to a halt around him. They were probably embarrassed that their scientist had taken care of the threat before they could. They should be. For all Shears liked to yell about training and comradery and smashing Shinra into the ground, his troops had done most poorly in the field, as usual.

 

Shinra had found them, somehow. Their precautions weren’t fool-proof, so it had been only a matter of the time before the illustrious Turks found a trail. AVALANCHE would just have to move to throw them off again. He raised his head finally and addressed his men. “Start packing up. Leave no trace.”

 

########

 

They didn’t get to choose when tragedy struck. Only weeks after the new Turks were hired, they’d lost another one.

 

Jet stood leaning against the wall of the training room, after having trained with her longtime partner for hours to relieve the stress from the loss of a comrade. Dakota panted lightly, bringing a towel around his neck and looking up at her with a silent question in his eyes.

 

“... I turn thirty next week,” Jet said in a low voice.

 

Dakota would soon, as well. He’d known her birthday since they were both five years old. But he answered as if he didn’t know. “Yeah?”

 

Jet nodded. “Just wondering if it's about time. Our luck’s running out. All of our seniors are dead. Even Tseng almost died. Even the  _ commander  _ almost died.”

 

Dakota frowned lightly. “You think just because we’re getting older that we’re more likely to die?”

 

Jet shrugged. “Seems that way, doesn't it? Even though I'm faster than I’ve ever been, soon it won’t be enough. The enemy is growing faster than we are. They’re making anti-SOLDIER weapons, now. What chance do we have?”

 

Her face looked hopeless, like she’d given up. Dakota’s mouth tightened into a thin line. This was the kind of talk that Nadya had been spouting before she defected. Jet wouldn’t though, would she?

 

Jet glared at him, reading his mind. “I’m not gonna leave, you fucking idiot.”

 

Dakota relaxed. She understood. “Just checking.” His faith had faltered for a moment there, but she couldn’t blame him. Anything was possible, these days.

 

“I'm not giving up,” Jet said with determination. “It just sucks. People get older and die and I'm getting older.”

 

“Mid-life crisis?” Dakota asked, nonchalantly.

 

“Fuck yeah.”

 

Dakota sighed. “Go hit something and you’ll feel better.”

 

“You know me too well, you ass.”

 

########

 

Jet wasn’t the only one feeling disheartened. It was hard on all of them, every time they lost someone. They’d been told the statistics when they joined, but it was only just now sinking in now that they had no one left above them.

 

Tseng was the most experienced member aside from the commander, now. And what if Veld decided to retire? He had almost died in that accident with Kalm, and he was certainly old enough to retire by now. But Tseng was terrified to lead on his own, despite his experience as second-in-command. If Veld retired, Tseng would have no safety net. He would be the one making all the decisions, holding all of his Turks’ lives in his hands. Tseng didn’t know how Veld had handled it for so long.

 

For now he simply did his absolute best, and tried not to think about it. They had to find the people who killed Goran, first. That was his most important duty at the moment.

 

He hadn’t seen Rufus in a few months. None of the other Turks had been called to guard him, either, so he was getting his security from another branch it seemed. Tseng had to accept that the boy he had guarded for close to fourteen years was not going to be in his life anymore. That was okay.

 

He told himself it was okay and focused on his work.

 

########

 

**[07:25:38] <ND_457802> Okay, look. I know how important fighting Shinra is, but helping Wutai do it is just getting in the way.**

 

Rufus frowned at the screen. Hopefully the Avatar wouldn’t take this personally, and just accept it and get on with the planning. With his resources, they didn’t need Wutai anymore.

 

A couple minutes later, he received a reply. Rufus wondered if the Avatar could be using a phone of some sort that he could try to track.

 

**[07:27:09] <En-7843> I was thinking the same thing. My anti-SOLDIER creations aren’t being utilized correctly anyway. Under my direction, they should be able to take out a Second at least. As for the rest of our resources… they are wasted on this war.**

 

Good. The Avatar was pragmatic and willing to let go of obsolete ideas.

 

**[07:27:28] <ND_457802> So we’re in agreement?**

 

**[07:28:34] <En-7843> AVALANCHE will withdraw its support from Wutai and Shinra will destroy them. In doing so, we will move in and use our resources more effectively.**

 

**[07:28:56] <ND_457802> Do you have a plan?**

 

**[07:29:51] <En-7843> I have many, don’t you worry.**

 

**[07:30:10] <ND_457802> When will they be implemented?**

 

**[07:30:17] <En-7843> End the war first, Mr. Shinra.**

 

Rufus stopped and stared at the screen. Shit-- _ Shit, _ how had they found out…!? ... Did they simply infer from Rufus’ interest in ending the war? That could have been anyone, though, there were lots of people with access to money that wanted the war over. 

 

… But they could have also simply guessed, and Rufus had panicked and didn’t think of a response fast enough, so the hesitation was proof that the Avatar was right. Damn it. He begrudgingly typed out a reply.

 

**[07:31:23] <ND_457802> It will be done.**

 

Well, it was done. There was no use fretting about it any longer. The Avatar had given him the name of their organization, at least, so he wasn’t at a complete disadvantage. Still, he should have predicted that someone as formidable as the Avatar would at least be able to guess who he was. He seethed in anger and humiliation and pounded his desk once in frustration.

 

He may as well meet with AVALANCHE, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer!!! I am not an accountant! I had some trouble following Breaking Bad okay this was the best explanation I could come up with to keep Rufus from getting caught. And for the conversation between Avatar and Rufus I literally looked up pictures of hacker conversations idk lmao i did this before too  
> Two more Turk OCs left to get rid of before BC starts aw yeah. CRISIS CORE STARTS NEXT CHAPTER WHOOP


	14. Crisis Core

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, it’s finally happening. I’ve been waiting like nine years to write this chapter holy shit. ENJOY.

Wutai was losing, badly.

 

It was as though they had used up all their resources, and yet were still fighting on with their indomitable will. But it was all in vain. They would fall soon enough, and Shinra would finally have what it wanted after a long and senseless war.

 

The SOLDIER program was thriving under Lazard, its members having quadrupled since he was hired. And if SOLDIER weren’t popular before, they were now that all the Firsts were war heroes. There wasn’t a child anywhere that didn’t want to join SOLDIER and be like Sephiroth. He was on television, in the newspapers, seen at public events in between deployments--he was the most famous man in the world, even though he hardly ever said a word. It wasn’t just him, of course, but he was the one Shinra put on all the posters. The other two Firsts also received credit where it was due, and Genesis Rhapsodos especially had quite the horde of female fans. There were even fan clubs for each of the Firsts, whose members stood in the Sector 8 square recruiting members. They were really quite zealous in their devotion, and sometimes there were loud arguments in the square between fans of different clubs.

 

It was quiet for a while as activity died down. Wutai could barely put up a fight, and so Shinra hardly had to work at it anymore. And then finally the president of Shinra Incorporated decided to end it.

 

Shinra had decided to put Wutai out of its misery and deploy their strongest SOLDIER all at once. All three First Class SOLDIER decimated the Wutai front while the lower classes backed them up. It was a massacre, and it looked like the war would end in a matter of weeks.

 

And then, Genesis disappeared.

 

Just out of nowhere, in the break before stages of a battle, he disappeared along with everyone under his command. It was speculated that he had defected, and nobody could guess why.

 

With roughly a third of the SOLDIER force deserted, it set Shinra back a little bit but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. The president declared a manhunt for Genesis, and set up a strategy to win the war in just one more major battle. Fort Tamblin was Wutai’s last line of defense, and once that fell they would have nothing to stand in the way of Shinra’s forces. They’d be decimated. And so, the president sent Sephiroth, Angeal Hewley, and a Second Class that was being recommended for First to destroy the fort.

 

The Second took out half of the entire fort by himself. The other half was handled by Angeal, and Sephiroth stood by to command the final attack once all the defenses were broken. And needless to say, there was nothing left once they were finished. The war was over, and the world knew thoroughly the power that SOLDIER commanded.

 

However, after the end of the battle, Angeal disappeared as well. One minute he was helping to escort Lazard away from the battleground, and the next he was gone. Sephiroth had to pick up for him and help get Lazard and the Second back safely.

 

This was unprecedented, and so the Turks were put in charge of the investigation immediately. At the battle of Fort Tamblin, odd humanoid creatures had suddenly appeared and attacked Lazard’s security detail. They were discovered to have Genesis’ face.

 

Even though the war had finally ended, they could never catch a break. If the growing anti-Shinra activity hadn’t been enough to keep them busy, now two of the three strongest SOLDIER were gone and making odd, unfocused trouble for both Shinra and for innocent bystanders. Tseng had always regarded Angeal as a proud and loyal member of SOLDIER that cared deeply for his subordinates, so the idea that he would desert was puzzling.

 

If they could figure out where these odd Genesis clones were coming from, they might be able to avoid a problem. Tseng assigned Cissnei and Adrian to gather information about these clones indefinitely.

 

########

 

Rufus had it rough. He hardly had time to sleep, but it wouldn't do to compromise his health so he had to make time for it. The campaign was taking more of his free time than he’d anticipated, because the people wanted to actually  _ see  _ the candidates. Why bother when he was the only one qualified? The whole thing was a farce, and Father knew it. Rufus knew who would come out on top. Still he played along; he’d played along for the past three years to get here and he wouldn’t stop now.

 

With his place virtually secured, Rufus spent most of his mental energy figuring out how to meet with the AVALANCHE head. His options were few and none of them were ideal, because all of them had him relying on someone else for protection. All of them involved trusting another person, when he never truly would.

 

Eventually he convinced the Avatar to send a security detail to pick him up at a private location inside the city, and then transport him to the meeting site. He would be given full knowledge of the location and would be treated as a member of AVALANCHE.

 

It was still insane, but Rufus could think of no other plan that would keep his activity completely hidden. So he could be kidnapped or killed, but at least nobody would find out he’d been a traitor for the past three years.

 

Surprisingly, this was the most ideal situation for the young Vice President-to-be.

 

He’d thought about bringing Dark Nation, but it would be just one more way for someone to identify him and, frustratingly, she wouldn't do much help in the face of an entire enemy security detail. She was strong, but she wasn't a SOLDIER, and Rufus would rather not risk the certain death of his loyal hound. It was better that he only risk himself if he was going to walk into a death trap willingly.

 

The pickup went nicely. He had made the appointment during a time he would not be needed, and even if he were needed then he had messages posted in various places stating that he was busy with one thing or another. If one looked at them all as a whole then one would realize every single one was a lie, but nobody would ever do that because there was no reason to suspect him. Shinra’s indifference to him kept him safe.

 

He was led into a dingy little shack in the slums of Sector 1. It was somewhere that the future Vice President would look devastatingly out of place, but where a big covered truck would feel at home amongst the other trucks and metal beams and factory equipment lying around. Even if the people were against having an anti-Shinra organization running around in the slums, they wouldn’t notice a well-dressed young man being led into a shack with a security detail of three AVALANCHE operatives. This kind of thing was normal in the slums, apparently.

 

The guards opened a door to what looked like it could have been a kitchen at some point, but all of the appliances had been gutted from it. Rufus looked around at the walls with peeling paint and the dirt that had built up in all the crevices of the room. His hosts seemed to have at least brought in a new table set made of sleek, commercial material, and a set of portable lights since the electrical work in the building was no longer functional. The guards motioned for him to sit down at the table, and then went to stand outside the door. Rufus sat down gingerly, as if not accepting that the new furniture was entirely clean since it was sitting in a filthy room.

 

After roughly thirty seconds of waiting (in which Rufus sat in quiet outrage, since his host should have been here  _ waiting _ for him), a man with brown, slicked back hair and glasses entered the room along with two other guards in dark clothes and red helmet visors. He wore the same olive-colored uniform of his guards and walked with a measured gait and a cool smile. “Mr. Shinra,” he said with a nod as he sat down neatly.

 

Rufus had one leg folded over the other, and he flipped his hair in response. “A lucky guess. It would have been foolish to try and hide it any longer.”

 

The man chuckled lightly. “Of course. With your upcoming campaign I would have found out immediately. With the timings between our meetings and the Vice President’s activities, it would have been simple.”

 

Rufus sighed. There was no point in hiding anything from this man. “Let's just get this over with. I have to return before anyone notices.”

 

The man hummed in acknowledgement. “Of course. Though I doubt Daddy will notice you're gone.”

 

Rufus’ eyes narrowed. “Are you done?”

 

The corners of the man’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “My apologies. Would you care for a drink? Wait, you're old enough, right?”

 

Rufus  _ fumed _ in indignation. Was he actually doing this? “Perhaps I should return when you think pestering someone because of their age is no longer funny.” He gave the man a menacing glare. Perhaps he had been mistaken in thinking he would be treated with professionalism.

 

The man put up a hand in front of him in apology. “Of course, I was only joking. Lightening the mood, if you will. Kyneugh, please bring drinks.”

 

One of the dark-uniformed guards bowed and turned to leave. Rufus frowned, wondering if the Avatar had brought  _ drinks _ to a dilapidated shack just for a short meeting. That, and they looked almost like his servants. “Your soldiers fetch you things?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

 

The bespectacled man raised his eyebrows. “There are very few people I trust around my consumables. Perhaps you should take the same precaution, Mr. Shinra.”

 

Rufus frowned, considering that. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but everything this man did put him on edge. He had put his life in the hands of a stranger--an  _ enemy-- _ that was both patronizing and creepy. He treated his soldiers like servants, and his allies like tools. Rufus had known what a dangerous position he would be putting himself in when he surrendered himself to the Avatar’s men, but now the situation was fixed. There was no going back.

 

He privately wished that Tseng were there with him. At least then he would know one thing for sure--that he would be protected with steadfast loyalty.

 

Then he shook away that thought, chalking it up to weakness. He’d analyzed the situation, and there was no reason for the Avatar to betray him. He was the benefactor, after all.

 

… Still. He would be wary. The only person he could trust now was himself.

 

########

 

The Turks had tracked Genesis to Banora. It was only natural for him to go back to his hometown after deserting, even if it were one of the first places his pursuers would look. He did not seem like he was trying to hide very well.

 

Cissnei and Katana came back to rest after their long investigation, and Veld deployed Jet and Dakota to deal with the situation. From what the other two had seen, Genesis was unpredictable and unstable. It was unclear if he had attacked anyone, but people were afraid to leave their homes. Jet and Dakota’s mission was to get in and evacuate anyone they could, and then neutralize Genesis if the opportunity presented itself. Otherwise they were not to engage him.

 

Jet stood on one of the hills overlooking the small village, scanning the area. There were no First Class SOLDIER in sight, or anyone at all for that matter. She sighed. “So. How do you wanna do this?”

 

Dakota shrugged. “Preferably not just running in. This is a First we’re dealing with.”

 

Jet grinned. “You afraid of fighting a SOLDIER? I took out a Third in three seconds flat the other week. He was pissed.”

 

Dakota rolled his eyes. “The difference between a Third and a First is astronomical.”

 

Jet chuckled. “Yeah. Seriously though, I don't wanna run into him either. How about you stay up here and watch for him, and I get everyone out?

 

Dakota nodded, and Jet sprinted down the path into the town.

 

There was no sign of the SOLDIER while Jet darted between buildings, looking inside for a little bit before darting to another one. Nobody was coming out, though… were they afraid?

 

He got a call, and picked up.  _ “There’s nobody here,”  _ said Jet with notable frustration.  _ “They’re just gone, what the hell happened?” _

 

Dakota’s eyes narrowed. No nearby villages reported a group of refugees, and they hadn’t been seen from the air during Cissnei and Katana’s investigation. If they weren't here…

 

_ “Don’t tell me he killed them all,”  _ said Jet. _ “ _ All  _ of them? This is his hometown, what the fuck?” _

 

“He’s more unstable than we thought, if that's the case,” Dakota answered, keeping his voice calm. “Look for signs that he destroyed the bodies.”

 

“I knew Shinra would send their lapdogs sooner or later,” came a voice behind him suddenly.

 

Dakota whipped around, eyes narrowing when he didn’t see anything. Then the figure of Genesis Rhapsodos came down from the sky in front of him, held airborne by a single black wing that seemed to be connected to him. He had a wing coming out of his back.

 

_ What? _

 

He hadn’t even considered watching the skies, because people couldn’t fly. But there he was, flying.

 

Dakota pulled his phone up to his face. “He’s here, get out!”

 

And suddenly there was a famous red rapier slicing at his hand. He managed to move just enough out of the way that he didn’t lose his arm, but the screen of the phone was cut in half, rendering the phone useless. He dropped it immediately and drew his handgun with impossible speed, firing immediately.

 

He may have been one of the best and fastest marksmen in the Turks, but Genesis was one of the three top-level SOLDIER. Even the best Turks didn’t stand a chance against him, and that is why they were ordered not to engage. It seemed they weren’t given a choice, however. Genesis blocked every shot easily, then came flying at him again.

 

Dakota didn’t have anything to block with, so he was forced to dodge, narrowly avoiding the blade. Usually, Jet fought close-combat and he watched her back from a distance, but she wasn’t here at the moment. He just had to last until she got here--

 

Suddenly there was a deafening crash of lightning that hit Genesis square in the back, immobilizing him for a few seconds as he shouted in pain. Jet wasted no time in rushing him during those few precious seconds, and drew her rod back to slam it into her opponent’s head.

 

Genesis recovered much more quickly than she’d anticipated however, and with an angry yell he fired a monster fire spell straight at her.

 

Dakota fired again, over and over. He was confident that Jet would dodge that. He just had to keep Genesis busy until she could land a blow to knock him out. That’s how it always worked.

 

Sure enough, Jet emerged unscathed from the other side of the blast, and rushed at Genesis again. It was a good thing Jet was the fastest Turk, because otherwise Genesis would have absolutely no trouble avoiding her. He was already dodging her every swing, and it didn’t look like she would be able to get a hit in. Dakota fired clip after clip, but none of his shots connected. The only thing that had done any kind of effect against him had been that lightning spell--was that the key to subduing him?

 

He shoved his Ice materia into the slot in his handgun, and fired. A blast of ice magic came out of the end and shot towards the SOLDIER, and part of it connected with Genesis’ shoulder when he couldn’t dodge the whole blast. He yelled in pain again, and Dakota fired once more. The blast hit Genesis’ wing next, and the man plummeted into the ground.

 

Jet charged another powerful lightning spell and fired it into the downed SOLDIER, causing another cry of pain. She looked at Dakota in silent communication and readied another blast. All they had to do was keep this up, and they could win--

 

A massive fire spell shot out of Genesis’ arm and engulfed the whole plateau in fire. Dakota only narrowly avoided being cooked alive by firing his ice spell at the ground in front of him, creating a small wall that he hid behind until the flames passed. He jumped out and fired another ice spell, hoping to all the gods that Jet wasn’t dead. She had to have dodged somehow.

 

Genesis dodged the ice, getting used to Dakota’s timing by now. The Turk shot smaller, faster shots in hopes that he could do a little more than just keep the SOLDIER busy. His stamina would run out eventually if he kept up the spells, and then he’d be dead.

 

Right on cue, Jet pulled herself back up over the edge of the plateau, where she’d jumped down to avoid the fire. She looked badly burned on her dominant side, however, and she struggled to her feet. Dakota felt a pang of remorse at her pain. Maybe they should just try to run. Genesis was faster, but maybe he would give up after a little bit--!

 

Genesis suddenly flew at him, straight into his shots of ice. Dakota’s breath hitched, and he charged a bigger shot and fired. Genesis flew right around it. He was mere meters away now, and Dakota had no defense but his ice spells. He readied another spell as Genesis charged right at him.

 

He vaguely heard Jet yelling obscenities at the SOLDIER, hopefully to get him to attack her instead. Dakota knew that wouldn’t work, so he focused on the blade coming at him and dodged. He waited until Genesis was right next to him and fired.

 

He couldn’t tell if the blast connected with its target because of the flurry of ice crystals in close proximity to his face, but he got his answer when the rapier cut through his handgun in a blur of red--and also through his hand.

 

He dropped the other half of the gun, his hand now useless. He stared at it in shock as blood spurted out of what was left of it. Then he figured he should probably look up and defend himself. 

 

He looked up to see the blade rushing at his face. He wasn’t fast enough.

 

########

 

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

She knew Dakota was dead the moment he’d let Genesis get that close, but she found herself shrieking as her comrade’s head fell to the ground a moment later. She’d known he would die, but not like this. Not being fucking decapitated like a criminal. She couldn’t look away because it would dishonor his memory, but also she just  _ couldn’t look away. _

 

Bile rose in her throat as she looked up to see the SOLDIER turn towards her again. Her skin blazed with pain where the fire had scorched her and melted her uniform to her skin. Her face stung when she moved her mouth, and she was pretty sure the hair on that side of her head was ruined, and this fucker had just beheaded her only real friend on the entire Planet.

 

Genesis merely shrugged. “Be grateful I ended his life quickly.”

 

Jet’s face screwed up in fury, her burns flaring. “You  _ didn’t!  _ You don’t die immediately from that, it was the worst thing you could have done to him! He was probably terrified!”

 

Genesis raised his eyebrows. “Huh. You learn something new every day. Sorry.”

 

“They don’t teach you that in  _ murder school,  _ SOLDIER scum!?” Jet snarled.

 

Genesis shrugged again, unphased. “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now. Would you like to choose how quickly you die?”

 

Jet seethed in both anger and in pain. If he attacked, there was no way she could outrun him. Why did he want them dead so badly? Had he just waited for people from Shinra to come after him so he could punish them? What the fuck was his problem?

 

It didn’t matter. Dakota was dead. They hadn’t even been able to save any of the townspeople, so their trip here was for nothing. Their deaths would be for nothing. She clenched her jaw in rage as she stared death in the face with defiance.

 

Genesis walked towards her, examining his rapier. “I could kill you more slowly, if you’d like.”

 

Jet’s jaw remained locked shut. She wouldn’t give him any satisfaction. She was a Turk, and she would die like one. She always knew she’d die out of spite one day.

 

Genesis shrugged one more time. “So very like a Turk, to the end. So be it.”

 

Then he propelled himself towards her, black feathers bursting from behind him. Jet narrowed her eyes, then lunged out of the way at the last second, hoping to turn around and get him in the back of the head. She brought her rod up to swing it and felt the rapier pierce her chest from behind.

 

She gasped, and it was pulled from her body as quickly as it had been put there. She tried to stay on her feet, but it  _ hurt so goddamn much  _ by all the  _ gods. _ She fell to her knees, feeling her heart pump her life away as it stained her jacket, and the pulsing pain that tore through her body with every beat. She couldn’t breathe. Her lung wasn’t working. She coughed and gasped for breath that wouldn’t come, and decided to just fuck it all and fall to the ground.

 

Genesis stood above her, no particular malicious expression anywhere to be seen. He almost looked like he felt sorry for her. “It could have been instant, if you hadn’t been so stubborn.”

 

Her heartbeat was getting weaker. It was freaking her out. What an asshole. She hoped whatever freak accident had given him a wing had also taken away his reproductive organs. Or something.

 

She shut her eyes and waited for it to end.

 

########

 

Jet and Dakota hadn’t reported in.

 

After a few hours of silence, Tseng’s hope began to ebb away. They weren’t supposed to engage Genesis, so what had happened? Had they somehow lost two more Turks on one mission?

 

Tseng didn’t want any more of his people getting hurt, if that was the case. If Veld wanted to send anyone else to see what happened, he would argue strongly against it. He didn’t like arguing with his superior, but it was something he could not ignore.

 

And sure enough, Veld had assigned Cissnei and Adrian to figure out what had happened. Tseng messaged them not to leave and then rushed to the commander's office.

 

“Sir, don't send them on this mission,” he said, his heart pounding with anticipation. “There are too many unknown variables and their chances of survival are too low, we  _ can’t _ allow this.”

 

Veld turned to face him. “Is that so? It is a job of the Turks to investigate and reveal the nature of unknown variables, and to come out on top.”

 

“But we aren't trained to deal with First Class SOLDIER, sir!” Tseng urged. “If Jet and Dakota didn’t make it, what chance do the rest of us have?”

 

Veld narrowed his eyes. “Then what do you propose? I have been given orders by the president to find Genesis.”

 

“Transfer it to SOLDIER,” said Tseng, gathering all of his confidence. “Let them deal with their own. Why haven't they sent the remaining First after him? That would be the most effective course of action.”

 

Veld pursed his lips, seemingly considering the offer. Tseng dared to allow himself a sliver of hope. Finally, the commander answered. “The president was adamant that the Turks investigate this. SOLDIER is not trained as we are--they only fight. So I would still need to send a Turk along with the SOLDIER.”

 

Tseng blinked. “Then, I can go. Don't send anyone else with less experience than me.”

 

Veld sighed. “That's really the only choice there is, isn’t there? Prepare to leave, and I will bring it up to the president.”

 

Tseng felt relief flood through him. “Thank you, sir.”

 

He was dismissed, and he went to prepare himself mentally. He was relieved that no other Turk would be responsible for this mission, but he was nervous. His chances would be greatly improved working alongside a First, but that First was Sephiroth. He was understandably nervous to be working with a living legend with the power to singlehandedly destroy an entire army.

 

From what he'd seen of the man he was calm and collected, so that thought assuaged some of Tseng’s fears.

 

########

 

He would  _ not _ be working with Sephiroth. Apparently they were sending the same Second with him that was recommended for First back during the battle for Fort Tamblin. And  _ also _ apparently, Sephiroth had refused to go on the mission. Tseng didn’t know he could do that. It was selfish and irresponsible.

 

He calmed himself as he made his way to Lazard’s office for the briefing. He supposed he should be more concerned for his wellbeing if he wasn't working with a First, but worrying about themselves wasn't something Turks did. He focused on clearing his mind for the mission ahead.

 

After a short wait in Lazard’s office, the aforementioned Second Class entered, looking rather excited. “Any news on Angeal?” he asked.

 

Lazard shook his head, still looking at his screen. “Hasn't contacted his family either.”

 

The young SOLDIER looked disappointed, but brushed it off after a moment. “So what's this about?”

 

Lazard turned to looked at him. “A new assignment. I want you to go to the hometown of our missing SOLDIER First Class, Genesis.”

 

The Second blinked. “Huh?”

 

Lazard turned back to his computer, lacing his gloved fingers back together. “According to his parents, they’ve had no contact with Genesis whatsoever. But, they can't be trusted.” The director shook his head.

 

The Second looked inquisitive. “Why?”

 

“They’re his family,” said Lazard a moment after Tseng thought it. The Second nodded finally in understanding. “Two Turk operatives were already dispatched, but we’ve lost contact. I want you to go and investigate.” He turned and gestured to Tseng, finally. “He will go with you.”

 

The young SOLDIER finally noticed Tseng standing off to the side. Tseng nodded. “Tseng, of the Turks.”

 

The Second blinked, then sighed. “This job is looking so gloomy.”

 

########

 

The boy introduced himself as Zack. Where had he heard that name before? He pondered that while Zack got ready, but couldn't think of anything.

 

Zack returned with the usual bounce in his step. “Ready to go?” Tseng asked. How old was this kid? They were sending a teenager to deal with a war hero. Well, to be fair, this kid was also a war hero, technically. It was hard to imagine.

 

“A routine job, right? No sweat!” Zack swung his arms around, warming them up.

 

Tseng’s mood was only saved by his extreme discipline and meditation practices. The young man didn’t seem too concerned about the two Turks operatives that were missing in action. “I wonder,” he said. “Originally, Sephiroth was assigned to this mission. That means it's a top priority matter.” He turned and gave Zack a serious stare. “Be alert, or you’ll fall.” It wasn’t his place to teach discipline to Lazard’s operatives, but it appeared that Zack needed a little more help.

 

Zack nodded. “And Sephiroth?”

 

Tseng forced his bitterness away before answering. “Refusing to go, apparently.”

 

Zack’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Oh, what's that? They spoil him too much!”

 

The unexpected response actually made Tseng chuckle. “Why don't you say that to his face?”

 

Zack brought his hands up in a prayer motion. “Uh, no thanks! Please don't tell him.”

 

Tseng smirked involuntarily. Having one’s feelings validated always felt nice. “I won't.”

 

He suddenly remembered the young SOLDIER that had dashed past him down the hall, and the other one calling after him not to bother the Firsts. Tseng’s eyes widened in realization.

 

Zack was the puppy-SOLDIER that was apparently now being recommended for First Class.

 

Well alright.

 

########

 

When the two of them arrived in Banora, they encountered anti-SOLDIER weapons made from technology that was stolen from Shinra. Luckily, Zack completed the new mission of destroying them without incident. Apparently they were no match for a Second that was recommended for First. Shortly after, they walked up to the estate up on the hill overlooking the village.

 

“This is Genesis’ home,” Tseng said. “His parents are wealthy landowners,” he looked over to Zack, who looked to be studying the Dumbapple tree next to the house.

 

“Yeah, Angeal said,” he said with an absent tone.

 

Tseng went on, recalling information he’d read about the two missing SOLDIER. “They weren’t mere acquaintances. They grew up together, and were best friends.”

 

Zack frowned. “So Genesis deserts and gets his best friend Angeal to join him. Is that it?”

 

“Sephiroth believes that's the case,” Tseng answered, scanning the area. His eyes fell upon a mound of dirt that had been turned recently, and his gut clenched. “There. A grave, still very new.”

 

Zack looked over and frowned inquisitively as Tseng went on. “Go find Angeal’s house. I’ll check the grave.”

 

Zack didn’t argue with that, thankfully. Tseng’s carefully molded façade of calm couldn’t handle an argument right now. Zack did ask a question, though. “Ugh, do Turks always do this stuff?”

 

“Someone has to do it,” Tseng said, humorlessly.

 

“Must be rough,” Zack said, hanging his head.

 

Tseng started walking towards the grave as if he weren’t trying to escape the conversation. “Don’t worry. We’re paid much better than you are.”

 

“No way!” he heard Zack call after him, and Tseng ignored anything further and assumed Zack had gone to find Angeal’s house.

 

He continued towards the grave, then pulled on a pair of gloves he kept in his pocket but never used. He crouched down and dug his hands into the soil and pulled it away, his heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. It was a large grave, so he didn’t know what to expect. Could it hold two people? Was this the grave of his old friends?

 

His hand was stopped by a solid form before he dug too deep, and his heart jumped into his throat. He forced it back down and kept going, knowing he had to identify any missing persons that he could. It was his job as an investigator.

 

He pushed more dirt away and revealed the zipper every Turk uniform had to close their jacket, and he held his breath. The body was that of a woman, and there looked to be a large stab wound through her chest. He wished he could stop there, but he had to make sure.

 

He pushed the dirt away from the place where the face should be, and it was revealed to be Jet. One missing person identified.

 

He ignored his feelings of dread and despair and moved to uncover the area next to it, looking for her partner. There was already an almost certain chance of finding Dakota as well, so he pushed his emotions away and just did his job. He pushed dirt away until his hands tangled in hair, and he paused. The head was in an odd position compared to Jet’s body. Had Genesis just thrown them into the grave without a care?

 

He pushed aside his outrage at that thought, and moved to uncover the face. He pushed away more and more dirt, and--

 

He uncovered an arm right next to it.

 

It wasn’t Jet’s arm. And it couldn’t be Dakota’s, from the position. Were there even more people in this grave? Tseng pushed harder on the growing feeling of dread in his stomach, and shoved away more dirt. Maybe he needed a shovel. He pushed harder to speed up the process, shifting Dakota’s head while he did.

 

Tseng stared at it. Heads couldn’t move like that while they were attached to anything. Then his eyes widened.

 

He felt sick.

 

He hurried through the rest of the digging, turning off the part of his brain that felt things, and had to pull out a cloth to tie around his nose and mouth when he dug even deeper to the rest of the bodies. Those two had been there much longer than the two Turk operatives.

 

He finished identifying everything in the grave, then stepped away as quickly as he could and threw away his cloth and cloves in disgust. The parents of Genesis Rhapsodos looked to have been killed by a large slash to the torso made by a sword. Jet was killed by a stab through her chest. Dakota had been beheaded.

 

Genesis would pay. Tseng didn’t know how, since he was nowhere strong enough to face a First Class SOLDIER, but he would pay nonetheless.

 

########

 

The good news was the two of them had made it out alive.

 

The bad news was that Angeal Hewley was definitely working with Genesis, all of the townspeople were dead, and Tseng’s suit was ruined by one of Genesis’ damned fireballs. The back of his head throbbed where it had impacted with that mako tank when Genesis had sent him flying with that attack in the factory, and there was an angry red burn on his neck where the flames had licked him. If Zack hadn’t been there, he’d be dead.

 

There was all of that, and then Shinra had ordered an airstrike to wipe Banora off the map. When the order came in, Tseng wasn’t even surprised. Genesis had been growing his army of copies from there, so it was natural for the company to get rid of a dangerous operation in such a way. There was that, and they didn't want the word about one of their own SOLDIER going rogue and killing an entire village. This was a normal reaction.

 

Zack on the other hand took the whole thing very hard. He reported with a heavy heart that when he went back to warn Angeal’s mother (who had stayed in the village, unharmed somehow) about the airstrike, he found her dead with Angeal standing over her. Zack’s plan to convince the SOLDIER to come back had failed in its infancy.

 

Their mission was a success, however technical. They had kept Shinra secrets from being leaked and destroyed any weapons that could be used against the company. Veld would be satisfied.

 

Both Tseng and Zack didn't feel very successful, however. There was still a lot of work to be done, and the Genesis case was finally transferred to SOLDIER. Tseng went back to work finding anti-Shinra militants, because those never seemed to cease to exist. With how Shinra treated problems, he could understand why.

 

########

 

Rufus’ campaign to be elected to the newly-created position of Vice President was finally over. The vote had been cast days before and his victory was official. He’d only had two opponents, and it had been obvious that they would both lose. One was laughable, and the other was Lazard Deusericus; Rufus could barely contain himself pondering the irony of the situation. Lazard would never have won, though, and the president wanted him as Director of SOLDIER anyway. The whole campaign had been a joke, and Rufus almost felt sorry for the other two. The message was sent out through company email, and soon it would be announced to the public.

 

The meeting with Fuhito had gone well, and hadn’t gotten him killed, luckily. Rufus was lucky to have survived past his eighteenth birthday, with all the dangerous situations he was putting himself in. Even so, there was the thrill of doing something he could be killed for, and getting away with it. He knew he was getting overconfident, but he didn’t want to regulate that at all. He was in control. He was going to be elected Vice President of Shinra Incorporated, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. His father was going to die, and there was nothing the man could do about it.

 

Rufus felt like he was on top of the whole world. Now all he had to do was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally, I can start writing shit that actually happened in the canon. Also, I guess Shelke was kidnapped around this time, but from what I can tell the Turks’ involvement with that was really complicated so I just stopped reading, so no mention of Shelke, sorry. I watched DoC once.
> 
> YAY MY OCs ARE DEAD. Hope you liked their brutal deaths. My goal was to give those two nameless Turks that die in Banora a story and someone that cared about them.
> 
> Chapter 15 coming soon!


	15. AVALANCHE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly got really sick! So you get this chapter a bit early! WHOOP
> 
> MISSION 1 OF BEFORE CRISIS FINALLY. CANON EVENTS I CAN USE TO FURTHER THE PLOT. I’VE WAITED LIKE NINE YEARS FOR THIS I’ve done most of the pre-game headcanons and exposition and development and shit so now I can just run with it. Rufus has reached his Douchebag Form.
> 
> Also: Please read at least one thing I have in the end notes! I need y’all’s opinion on something for future chapters.
> 
> Because I like making shit clear (unlike in the game!!!) here are a few numbers: It’s late 2000, Rufus is 18 and Tseng is 28.

_Never engage a SOLDIER First Class without SOLDIER backup._

 

Tseng wrote with a steady hand, forcing himself to reflect on past mistakes that he had wanted to ignore until then. He’d begun a list, to help him make decisions in the future.

 

 _Never enter an enemy arms factory alone._ That one covered both Goran’s mistake, and his own, he supposed.

 

 _Never enter a vehicle on a war front without scouting the area first._ The old man that had perished in that truck explosion in Wutai hadn’t had time to check the entire area before being forced to move in. Tseng wouldn’t make that mistake with his Turks.

 

 _Be prepared to exit a building at a moment’s notice in case of a bomb going off._ Tseng didn’t know how he could best avoid that one, other than to make sure there were no bombs in the building. His two superiors that had died in the offensive with the Army hadn’t had time to check and see if it was a trap, first. They shouldn’t have even entered that building. The Turks shouldn’t have been in the midst of a battle.

 

 _Never defect from the Turks. Don’t lose hope._ That one was a given. He would endeavor to keep morale up, so this never happened again.

 

He hesitated at the last one, then wrote it down. _Have airstrike team confirm location before firing._

 

Tseng would be a better leader than all the previous ones, because he had learned from their mistakes. And future Turk leaders would learn from his own mistakes. He could only hope he didn’t make many more, because he already felt responsible for most of these.

 

########

 

Shinra it seemed would never be finished with renovations, since there was always a new plan being drawn up just as the previous one was being finished. Shinra Headquarters still had some areas that had been neglected and required finishing, the top floor was being renovated for unknown and seemingly useless purposes, and the surrounding Plate construction had been interrupted with the onset of the Wutai War. This was all well and good for the slum-dwellers below who enjoyed the open air, but construction was picking up again now that the war had ended.

 

And of course, the management for such projects was in complete disarray and the inefficiency with which operations were conducted was astounding. But it wouldn't be Shinra without useless spending and inefficient use of manpower, Rufus mused. If the old man would only give Reeve the power to regulate his department more effectively, things might actually get done in a timely manner.

 

But not even Reeve could meet Rufus’ standards. Nobody could. The only way Reeve could win his true respect would be to stab old man Shinra in the back, or something to that effect. That was fair, right?

 

Settled in his new position, Rufus felt little change in his authority, as he had expected. The position was only just created, and although he was technically second in command it was effectively a symbolic position, with no set precedent for having real power yet, since any decision he made could be immediately overruled by the president. The position placed him directly in line to succeed his father, and did little else, which is why Rufus had carefully manipulated his relationships over the years to ensure that he had more than just symbolic power when he became Vice President. This placed him in the awkward position of being talked down to by his father and the elder executives, while at the same time wielding power behind the scenes where people were scared of his abilities. He was constantly underestimated because of his age and his subordination to his father, but in private he could even put off Scarlet.

 

This made the perfect environment for him to ensure his father’s removal from office, one way or another.

 

Rufus silently mused how so much money and time was being invested in this great city, when AVALANCHE was probably going to try to tear it down again. Rufus had qualms with destroying the entire city, of course, but the need to rid the world of President Shinra outweighed any danger to the city that AVALANCHE may have posed. He was sure that he could convince Fuhito to leave the infrastructure mostly intact, as long as he agreed to shut down the reactors and repurpose them somehow. That brought up the problem of finding a new energy source that would still keep Shinra on top of the world…

 

He sighed. There were a multitude of new energy sources that could be utilized, but the time and money it would take to research them would send Shinra Incorporated into bankruptcy in mere months after the reactors were shut down. He would need to negotiate for a grace period of some kind, so that Shinra could stay afloat while they found a new energy source… but Rufus had no doubt that Fuhito would reject it immediately. He was not a man that compromised easily. Perhaps the easiest thing to do would be to wait until his father was dealt with, and then betray Fuhito?

 

The fact that such a thought unnerved Rufus meant that it was probably a stupid idea. Fuhito no doubt expected him to do such a thing. But if Rufus could keep his relations in Shinra intact, he could sell Fuhito out once the president was gone and the rebel leader would be decimated. He could send the Turks…

 

No, he was too wary of using the Turks anymore. Tseng was too familiar with his way of thinking, and if Rufus attempted to rekindle their relationship then the Turk would notice something. He had to keep his distance, probably indefinitely. He could send Sephiroth instead. The man was an absolute massacre even by himself, and Rufus was glad the SOLDIER program had done such a good job at promoting honor and loyalty, otherwise he would be worried about losing their greatest weapon to desertion one day. They had already lost two of the three Firsts, after all.

 

He sighed again, his fingers pausing from their furious typing session to rest lightly over the keys. In the corner of his eye he saw Dark Nation raise her head from next to the wall where she rested, tilting it curiously.

 

Rufus frowned back at her, then patted his thigh, muttering the command for her to Come. The hound stood up immediately, shrugging off whatever fatigue she may have had from dozing in the corner, and padded over to place her head on her master’s thigh, sitting down and making herself comfortable. Rufus scratched behind her ears as she sniffed affectionately. “I never trained you to care when something is wrong, girl,” he muttered.

 

He admitted to treating his hound with more affection than was wise for a war hound, and that may have caused Dark Nation to gain empathy where she should have only been trained to follow orders. When he was younger, Rufus justified the special treatment with the argument that she would be more attached to him, and he certainly wasn't wrong. The result was that she was overcomfortable--sometimes casual in her guard duty, dozing in the corner when they were in a place that was generally safe. She always jumped into action immediately when she sensed a threat, however, and that was enough for Rufus. The upside was that she got to relax, and she knew when he was thinking too hard about things, and came over to help.

 

He understood that attachment to people could put him at a disadvantage, and so he had easily and rather abruptly decided to sever those attachments. He could still act the part, as he did with Reno, but actually allowing himself to feel what came along with it was suicide.

 

Still. Even though he had effectively cut them out of his life, Rufus sometimes felt himself slip. He wasn't a sociopath, he had finally deduced. He craved attachment to certain people. And that was a big problem he was still dealing with. It hadn't presented itself as a problem yet, but what if the Turks got in his way? He would have to allow Fuhito to take care of them. That’s just how it was.

 

Until then, he put that out of his mind and allowed himself to attach to his hound. She was a safe object of affection, the big reason being that she could never repeat anything he said. She was loyal beyond compare, and would never betray him.

 

He paused for a moment when the hound began to lick his hand unprompted, and his face softened into something more solemn. “... You’re always here for me. But is that because I’ve trained you?”

 

The hound didn't answer, of course, and merely nuzzled her head against his hand some more, so he continued. “You’re a guard hound, so I should bring you along with me the times that I meet with AVALANCHE.” He paused again, that idea causing dread to pool in his stomach. “But I don't want you to get hurt.”

 

He decided to bring her when he trained. He loathed the idea of anyone seeing him exert himself (he was an enigma, after all) but conceded eventually that he should at least be relatively fit to wield a shotgun like he wanted to. The weapon delivered large amounts of damage with low lethality, which is what he was looking for. As long as he was going to be dealing with a dangerous man like Fuhito, he wanted to at least be able to wield a firearm--because gods forbid if he were ever put into a situation where he had to defend himself, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

 

He often thought about what he would do if his life were suddenly in danger. Would he risk his life just to get back at his father? Most of the time these days, the answer was yes.

 

All the while he forced himself not to think about how the way he felt for his hound was extremely similar to how he felt about his old bodyguard and his best friend.

 

########

 

The sound of thundering steps echoed in the stairwell as the building’s favorite redhead once again rocketed up the stairs in a desperate display of competition. Violet stood at the top of the stairwell, holding her phone with the timer going and looking bored, but perked up when she heard Reno’s loud cacophony grow louder and louder. Finally, she jumped back when Reno flung himself around the last turn and dove onto the final landing, crumpling at her feet as she stopped the timer.

 

She examined the time, and concluded that it was really impressive. Other than that, she didn't know, because she really didn't care about this weird contest Reno seemed to be having with no one but himself. And maybe Rude, but Rude seemed to just be humoring him since he didn't really specialize in speed. “Um, I forgot what you said the record was. But, here?” She turned her phone around to show Reno while he gasped for breath.

 

Reno craned his neck up to look, then his eyes squinted at the screen. “No way,” he said breathlessly, as he pushed himself up to a sitting position so he could see the screen better. His eyes widened. “No fucking way! You started it right at five?”

 

Violet nodded. “And stopped right when you hit the floor at my feet. That's how long it took you.”

 

Reno scrambled to his feet, ignoring his exhaustion, and bounded right back down the stairs towards headquarters. Violet shrugged and went back to the work Reno had interrupted her from when he asked her to time him.

 

Reno burst into the lounge on the 69th floor and almost tripped, his legs starting to fail him again. “Rude! Rude, I beat it, yo!”

 

The only one in the lounge at the moment was Nun, and he blinked at the sudden assault on his eardrums. “Beat what?” he asked with curiosity.

 

Reno waved him off. “You're new, you don't know.” He lit up when his partner turned the corner and entered the area with an eyebrow raised from behind his shades. “Rude, I beat the record! I’m not fuckin’ around, I finally beat it!”

 

Rude’s other eyebrow joined the first in surprise. “Congratulations.”

 

Reno finally collapsed onto the sofa across from Nun’s chair and chuckled a little hysterically. “Y-Yeah, I’ve been trying so long it feels unreal.” His expression quickly sobered as his breath calmed and his heart rate returned to normal. “She can’t defend her title, though. I’m the fastest Turk now.”

 

Nun’s lips pursed when he realized who Reno was talking about, since there had been only one other Turk this obsessed about being the fastest. Nun was new, and he didn't know the ones they had lost very well, but he knew better than to try to make light of something that upset Reno of all people.

 

Reno frowned. “Every time I beat one record, she’d be there to throw her new one in my face. She can’t do that now.”

 

Rude bowed his head solemnly, and Reno went on. “If she were here, would she do that again? Or have I finally hit the limit of the human body?”

 

“She would probably still try to break it,” Rude offered in his usual calm tone.

 

Reno gave a short laugh. “Ha, yeah, she’d be pissed if I broke her record. She’d try to beat mine again even if it was impossible. But she can't, now.”

 

Rude lifted his head, his hands still clasped behind his back. “You could do it for her. Strive to be the fastest you can be.”

 

Reno sighed. “Fuck, that's so much work.”

 

“Strive to be the fastest _and_ the most stubborn,” Rude said with a small smirk.

 

“Now _that_ I can do!” Reno yelled, bringing the atmosphere back to something less depressive as Rosalind came in and told him to be quiet.

 

########

 

Everyone was upset about losing two more operatives, but they didn't have much time to mourn or process what had happened. There were just too many anti-Shinra groups popping up, and it seemed as though they were looking more organized. The Turks had noticed this before, but now it was a formidable problem that gave even the Turks pause. They had killed Goran, after all. They had to be careful.

 

In the meantime, they all did their best to process the very real possibility of their comrades leaving for a mission and never coming back. The result was a general feeling of flippancy throughout the ranks, where they decided that they could all still be friends even if they didn't expect to see each other again after a mission. The acceptance was numbing, but as Turks they didn't have the luxury of forming close relationships in the first place. They encouraged each other and prepared each other as well as they could for whatever mission came their way, and hoped for the best. It was all they could do.

 

Tseng tried not to focus on the fact that they had lost so many already, and now he was starting to lose his oldest friends. He knew he couldn't keep Katana and Cissnei from the dangerous missions since they were the senior-most Turks, but that didn't stop him from wanting to. His only comfort came from the fact that they were very good at their jobs, and usually came back from every assignment without a scratch. He just hoped their luck never ran out.

 

He focused on his work, and how the company was growing despite its inefficient and self-sabotaging nature. Reeve worked tirelessly against the restraints he was put under to finish the city’s construction, even if his work would never benefit the people of the slums the way he wanted it to. Tseng felt for the man, stuck in a position he hated because he was afraid to give it to someone less inclined towards charitable deeds. He and Lazard were the only sane people on the executive board as far as Tseng was concerned. Oh, and now Rufus. Tseng kept forgetting that. He still never saw the boy anywhere, and hadn't had any chance to keep up with his projects. Worrying about his Turks kept him busy enough.

 

Katana and Cissnei were barely around anymore, both sent off on missions of their own or paired together. They had the most experience aside from Tseng, so naturally they took the most demanding missions as their seniors before them had. Tseng tried not to worry himself into an early grave thinking about what had happened to the seniors.

 

Rosalind and Violet had become positively lethal in their skills. Rosalind stayed true to the Turks motto and always got the job done no matter what, and Knife was the coolest under pressure.

 

The Secondary Division was doing well, though it only consisted of Two Guns and Nun for the time being. The Secondary Division was where all subsequent new recruits would be placed, and focused on more broad and domestic issues than the primary division did, which mainly focused on anti-Shinra militants. Two Guns was a complete enigma, never really hanging around except for odd times people caught him in the lounge. He had quickly proven his lethality and Tseng was forced to send him out with Primary members even though he was technically a rookie, to ensure that he didn't get bored. Tseng was happy to hear that he was getting along with at least one other Turk, and could stand being partnered up with Katana. The complaints about his lack of cooperation had ceased. He was making progress. Nun was making it as a bodyguard, though Tseng wished that he could look a little more imposing so as to deter any act against his charge through sheer intimidation. Nun nevertheless kept his charges safe, and there were no complaints about his success or professionalism.

 

Rude and Reno made the most unstoppable nonlethal tag team. Their usual missions consisted of going down into the slums and taking out entire drug meets by themselves. Reno had his unrelenting speed, and Rude had his power and stamina and the ability to knock a man out with one hit. Tseng tended to send them on the more domestic missions that involved arresting instead of assassination, so the people they interacted with were left alive and therefore remembered them. Between Rude’s size and Reno’s general appearance and attitude, they were the most famous Turks. Veld never had a problem with Reno becoming the unofficial face of the Turks, so Tseng tried to strategize his missions with that in mind.

 

He kept his list in his mind at all times, to avoid making the same mistakes that lost them their comrades in the past.

 

########

 

When Reno was alone with nothing to do, that was when the thoughts wouldn’t quit. They just kept buzzing over and over, the same damn thing he knew he couldn’t do anything about but couldn’t stop thinking about either. The next mission he’d be sent on in a few days. How Rufus was ignoring him, or at least didn’t wanna make time for him anymore.

 

The disgusting sound of that guy’s neck breaking a few months ago when he’d conducted his first kill by accident.

 

Shit. That always came around when he was inside his head too long.

 

It wasn’t supposed to happen. The guy was pointing a gun at Rude and Reno couldn’t have known if the idiot would actually pull the trigger, and with his EMR on the other side of the room Reno had no choice but to act with his bare hands in the most forceful way possible-- because if he had held back when he wasn’t sure of his movements then Rude could have died.

 

He told himself this every time. It didn’t help for shit.

 

He liked it much better when he was surrounded by people, where he could just run his mouth off about what-the-fuck-ever and _without fail_ cause at least one person to react. It kept him out of his head, kept him from loitering around on floor 69 just to see people going by instead of sitting in the HQ lounge alone.

 

As much as he complained about work, he hated not having shit to do. He’d almost rather do paperwork. And as if to save him from his current state, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fought the urge rip it out and answer it right away, since the person on the other end would undoubtedly know something was wrong. He answered. “Yeah?”

 

 _“Reno,”_ Tseng’s voice came through. _“Put your speed to good use and arrest the intruder in the garage.”_

 

Reno hummed in acknowledgement. “I’d be the first one to get there, you mean?”

 

 _“Indeed,”_ Tseng said, evenly.

 

If Reno listened really hard, he could hear a smirk in the commander’s voice sometimes. Co-commander. Vice-commander? What the fuck ever, Tseng was in charge kind of, the whole leadership deal was complicated now. “Gotcha, sir,” he answered, before flipping his phone closed, then bolting down the stairs to Shinra’s garage. Who in their right mind would break into the building of the most powerful company on the Planet?

 

He got his answer when he slipped into the garage and hid behind a support beam, easily locating the figure that was tinkering with one of the motorcycles. Reno couldn’t tell what they looked like from a distance, but they didn’t look very big or imposing. He knew he wasn’t supposed to let his guard down based on looks, but this one wasn’t gonna give him trouble at all. He slipped past the figure around to their back, pulled out his rod, and tapped them on the shoulder with the charge turned off. “Yo.”

 

The thief jumped at least a foot, having not noticed Reno at all. His eyes widened when he saw the uniform of the Turks--albeit worn rather haphazardly--and let out a soft curse before bolting away towards the garage door that had been propped open. Reno grinned, let him get a few steps head start, then sprinted.

 

One second the thief was on his way to escape, and the next he was on the floor of the garage with a stinging face where it had hit the floor, and a body pinning him down with no idea how he got there. Reno grinned wider. “Don’t even try to get away, yo. I could give you a hundred paces head start and I’d still catch you.”

 

He faltered when the guy didn’t even say anything, and instead slipped on leg up and flipped them over, forcing Reno to let go of his grip. The thief then jumped up and aimed a kick at Reno’s head, which he narrowly dodged before jumping to his own feet, ready to either bolt after this guy or defend against another blow.

 

And this idiot, he went for another blow. He was actually trying to fight a Turk. This stupid biker kid was trying to take out the fastest Turk with his bare hands.

 

Reno just smirked. He’d be impressed if he didn't think it was hilarious.

 

He easily dodged the punch that aimed for his face, grabbed the guy’s arm and used his momentum to flip him over his shoulder and onto his back with a satisfying thud. The guy coughed, having the wind knocked out of him probably, and Reno quickly wrapped an arm around the guy’s neck and grabbed his bicep, squeezing in that one way that Rude taught him to knock anyone out in like three seconds.

 

The guy flailed for three seconds, then went limp. Nailed it. Reno let him go so he didn't get brain damage or something, then pushed him onto his stomach and zip-tied his hands behind his back. Stupid kid.

 

He called up Security to take this kid to holding, then waited impatiently for him to wake up so he could make fun of him.

 

########

 

Once he explained to Veld what happened, the commander asked him to go retrieve the kid from holding. Veld wasn't _actually_ considering recruiting his pathetic ass, right? Granted, he _did_ break into Shinra’s garage alone, and he _did_ try to fight a Turk with his bare hands. That took guts, and also stupidity.

 

Reno wouldn't admit that he had a lot of experience with those two qualities working together.

 

When he stopped in front of the kid’s cell, he was met with the dirtiest, most spiteful glare of his entire career. Probably. Reno didn't tend to remember people that gave him pathetic glares. He sighed, feigning indifference. “Alright kid, the boss wants to see you.” The guard unlocked the cell door with her keycard and it slid open to reveal the thief’s full glory.

 

“I’m not a fucking kid, I’m nineteen,” the kid spat.

 

So, he wasn't going the silent route. That just made it even better. Reno raised an eyebrow. “You're a kid. Now come on, and don't struggle or Security might shoot you. They're a bit trigger happy when it comes to threats inside the building.” The kid stood and tried to move past him, but Reno grabbed his arm to lead him along. He leaned in close to whisper into the thief’s ear, grazing it with his lips. “They aren't as nice as I am.”

 

The guy didn't move away. What a hardass. Then he turned his head with this weird expression on his face and leaned in--holy shit was this guy gonna try to kiss him!?

 

Reno should have felt weird about thinking about hooking up with a prisoner, but he didn't have time to reevaluate his life before the guy said, with a sensual smirk, “I'd rather get shot than see how ‘nice’ you are.” Then he pulled back and looked straight ahead again without waiting to see Reno’s reaction.

 

A burn like that should have been a potshot to his pride, not a jolt of electricity to his dick. Oh fuck. Oh no. Reno quickly recovered himself, trying not to squeeze harder on the guy’s arm subconsciously. “Shit, yo, you've got a mouth on you.”

 

The guy smirked, still looking straight ahead. “And only a select few get to see how I use it.”

 

Fuck. He may have underestimated his opponent. The slow walk up to Floor 69 was a long one. Why did they have to be on floor 69? Fuck.

 

########

 

Reno knew that workplace fraternization wasn't strictly _illegal,_ but experience had taught him quickly that it wasn't a very good idea. Luckily for him, he had never desired a serious relationship with anyone, let alone someone he worked with, so he managed to restrain himself to merely friendly-flirting with his coworkers, earning him ire but no formal complaints. It was nice and easy, and he left his conquests outside the workplace. However there was that one time he flirted with Two Guns next to the coffee machine--which he really should have thought about before opening his big mouth, the guy was probably sleep-deprived and cranky--and ended up against the wall with a gun between his legs, and it was the single most terrifying and exciting moment of his life. It made him question his decision to leave his conquests for outside of the workplace, but eventually his blood rushed back to where it belonged in his brain and he thought better of it.

 

This new rookie was making him seriously reconsider this decision.

 

Veld had actually hired the kid. He was good with vehicles, and had a fighting style that was a lot like Reno's and merely needed refinement to turn it into a deadly weapon. He was the leader of a prominent biker gang on the Plate, and apparently had dropped that life like a hot potato when Veld had offered him a position. It was either this or go to prison, after all.

 

Sure, Reno thought he was cute. He wore a stupid biker jacket with worn jeans and a pair of black boots, and his messy hair completed the scrappy look that went along with his fighting style. His face was easy on the eyes, and he had quite the mouth on him. But when Reno stepped into headquarters the next day to get some training done and saw the new rookie fumbling with his cuff button under his new uniform, Reno actually stopped and stared as every bit of blood rushed out of his brain and down into his groin.

 

Rod--the alias the rookie had chosen, presumably because he’d be using a rod--cleaned up _nicely._ And Reno was all for the scrappy or rugged type in a partner, but he didn't know a single person on the face of the Planet that didn't like seeing a uniform. He was all for the party life that left him with girls and guys with wild hair and short skirts and leather pants, and a whole manner of debauchery--but when it took effort to look professional and formal, where the person had previously been a hot mess, all Reno wanted to do was rip that look apart and see what was underneath.

 

He wondered that if he would bother to wear his uniform correctly that anyone would think that about him. He didn't bother, though.

 

He realized he’d been staring when Rod looked up from his sleeve finally, and he had to fight not to shake his head to clear it. Should he even hide it anymore? It was fuckin’ obvious. Rod stiffened at meeting the man that had arrested him for the first time in a professional setting. “Um. Hi.”

 

Reno raised an eyebrow, pretending he was as calm as he wanted to look. “Yo, Rookie. They decided to hire your sorry ass?” Shit, that sounded mean. He wasn't trying to be mean, just testy.

 

Rod frowned--or was it a pout? His lips looked real soft--and folded his arms in defiance. “If my sorry ass wasn't good enough to be here, then the commander wouldn't have hired me. You got a problem with that?”

 

Reno smirked. “Nah, just checkin’ out the fresh meat. You didn't give me much to go on before I knocked you out last time.”

 

Rod frowned even harder, his eyebrows screwing up that pretty face of his. “Nobody is faster than me. How did you get so fast?”

 

“Having someone faster than me,” Reno said without hesitation. He tried not to think about that.

 

“I’m gonna pay you back for taking me out,” Rod continued. “No one’s ever beat me before.”

 

Reno raised his eyebrows. “Are you? Why don't we head into that training room there and see just how you're gonna pay me back.”

 

Rod nodded with determination. “You're on.”

 

“Ha, alright,” Reno said, trying to ignore how his heart was suddenly racing. Nobody ever went along with Reno’s stupid competitive shit (except for Jet, but she was like ten years older and it wasn't as fun and now she was dead and _don't think about that)_ , but this guy was taking it and throwing it right back in his face. He’d expected to get all hot and bothered and have trouble this entire fucking training session, but now all he felt was his heart racing with excitement. What the fuck.

 

Regardless, he was definitely reconsidering his decision about workplace fraternization.

 

########

 

Tseng’s field missions were few and far between these days, since he had taken up the task of assisting Veld in command. He wrote up the missions and assigned them himself, and dealt with day to day reports and calls from the Turks. He made it so Veld could focus on surveillance and finding out where the anti-Shinra militants were, and where and when they would strike next.

 

So he mostly did paperwork, and the odd assignment out in the city, and when Veld graciously offered him a reprieve from the mountains of files he was sent out to do small, simple missions like meeting with contacts as a representative.

 

Because of their most recent losses, Veld had asked him to go lift Legend’s house arrest restriction and bring him back. Tseng didn't argue with him this time--he felt no animosity towards the man anymore. He knew the man was reckless, but hopefully it was because of the mission’s circumstances. He wouldn't do that every time.

 

It seemed he had quite enjoyed his two year vacation, if the numerous girls that Tseng questioned had anything to do with it. Nevertheless, when Legend challenged him to a fight, he couldn't refuse, and he discovered that Legend had not merely lounged around on the beach for two years. Even in his mature years, he was even stronger than the last time Tseng had seen him. Tseng lost the fight--granted he didn't specialize in hand-to-hand, but it was still irksome--and was forced to accept that Legend was really one of the best. He understood why Veld wanted him back.

  


Tseng was surprised when Legend refused. And then Legend explained that he’d rather hang around on the beach in house arrest, dating every girl in the area, and Tseng understood. He couldn’t bring himself to feel angry when he thought about how much the man had lost because of the kind of violence the Turks saw every day. However that didn’t solve their problem of needing another new recruit besides that young one the commander had just hired. He would have to find someone else to recruit, soon.

 

Once again, he hadn’t seen Aerith in months. She was fifteen now. Damn. He’d hardly had any time to visit her, much resembling the frequency that he had seen Rufus.

 

She was a lot more amicable towards him than she had been in their early years. She still refused to go to school, but she seemed to be doing well under her mother’s tutelage. He frowned to himself. What if he just… never brought her in? Then he could see her happy all the time. Maybe he could put it off forever. It had been seven years after all. There were still other more pressing matters. There always were. Maybe the president would forget about her.

 

########

 

At the beginning of the next year, the war was officially over.

 

It had already been won months before, but the small bands of Wutaian troops that had refused to give up had finally surrendered at the orders of their king. There would be no more hostilities between Wutai and Shinra.

 

Finally, AVALANCHE could make their move.

 

Rufus stared at the company-wide message on his screen outlining the end of hostilities, excitement building in his chest. He had avoided reacting emotionally to the idea of AVALANCHE destroying President Shinra, but now that it was actually going to happen Rufus was unable to contain himself fully.

 

Was it sad that this was the happiest he had been in years? Perhaps.

 

The patronization from the other executives was becoming intolerable. He could certainly make them uncomfortable, yes, by manipulating the areas that the president did not personally oversee, but until the man was actually dead it was increasingly difficult to genuinely intimidate them. The executives had the patronage of the president to put them at ease for now, but Rufus reveled in the idea that once his father was gone, all of his threats would be entirely tangible and supported by his position.

 

He could finally use company resources efficiently when his father was gone. He could gradually switch over to more renewable sources of energy. He could make their energy source affordable for everyone, so that Shinra held the patronage of the entire world. He could decrease pollution and build a better design than the godsforsaken Plate, so that people wouldn't have to live in a slum without sunlight.

 

With him in control, the world could flourish. All he had to do now was wait for AVALANCHE to remove his father from power. He just had to wait for his father to die.

 

The thought made him smile.

 

########

 

Tseng had just finished showing the new rookie around in the chilly morning air, much like Veld had done for him so many years before. The one difference was that he was showing around a grown woman with firearms experience, where he had merely been a teenage cadet. Shotgun was not nearly as flappable as he had been, and she made a good recruit because of it.

 

He sent her off on the customary first mission of patrolling Sector 8--just as he had done for many of the others--and promptly got back to his paperwork. Sometimes he wondered how Veld could possibly keep his skills as sharp as they were with this amount of mind-numbing desk work. At least now that he had taken over most of the commander’s duties, the paperwork was still split between them. Tseng was barely keeping up. He pushed papers while giving Shotgun simple instructions on his phone, ready to send her on her way.

 

He paused in his work when he heard Shotgun mumbling to herself into the receiver. _“Downfall? Of Shinra? What’s going on here?”_ Immediately after, there was a muffled shout in the background.

 

Tseng frowned. Had he misheard her? “Shotgun? What’s going on?”

 

There was more muffled shouting, and a curse from Shotgun before she yelled, _“What do you think you’re doing!?”_

 

Tseng’s stomach dropped when he realized Shotgun, their newest rookie, was confronting someone in Sector 8. He wanted to believe it was just a bunch of kids tagging a building, but she had mentioned the “downfall of Shinra”.

 

“Shotgun, report!” he yelled into the phone. All he received were more muffled yells, and then a sudden loud gunshot. Was she firing!?

 

He put his hand on the intercom button, ready to call for backup in a moment if Shotgun didn’t respond. After what felt like an eternity--but in reality was only a few seconds--Shotgun responded. _“Sir!”_

 

“Shotgun, what’s going on?” Tseng fought to keep his voice commanding. His mind was racing, wondering if he should be acting to save her. He didn’t want to lose another Turk, especially under his command.

 

 _“I was attacked by two men that seemed to be plotting something,”_ she said, unexpectedly calm. _“They said something about ‘Down with the Shinra!”_

 

“Down with the Shinra…?” Tseng wondered aloud. “Who could they be?” His mind raced through the possibilities as he pulled together new instructions for his rookie. There weren’t any operatives in the immediate area that could take over, and they couldn’t lose the trail. So he’d have to send her in for now. “We need to know more. Go and see if there are more of them around.”

 

 _“Understood. I’m on it.”_ Shotgun’s line went dead immediately as she confidently ran headfirst into an unexpected situation on her first day of work.

 

Shotgun seemed to be doing fine in this particular situation, but Tseng contacted Veld just to make sure. Was Shinra HQ going to be attacked, again? Surely it wasn’t those Wutai sympathizers like the time before? The war was over, so Tseng couldn’t help but wonder if Wutai’s supporters on the eastern continent were mobilizing against Shinra by themselves, now. They could be looking to start a war on their own soil.

 

If so, Shinra would destroy them. That’s how it always was.

 

Veld answered gruffly, and Tseng explained the situation. Veld understandably wasn’t comfortable with leaving it to a rookie, so he instructed Tseng to send backup if possible.

 

It seemed to be going okay, so far. But if he wasn’t careful, it could turn into a very precarious situation. Tseng brought up his list of available operatives (which at the time was very lacking, due to everyone being busy with other missions) and decided to call Reno back from his surveillance mission in Sector 1.

 

 _“Yeah?”_ Reno answered with boredom in his voice.

 

“Reno,” Tseng began. “There have been reports of men planning an attack on the company. The newest rookie is out in Sector 8 handling the situation, but I would like you to support her.”

 

_“Huh, a support role for a rookie? Have I been demoted?”_

 

Tseng glared ahead, willing Reno to hear it in his voice. “You know what I mean. Get to it, this is serious.”

 

 _“Got it, boss.”_ Reno hung up, presumably to rush out to the street immediately. He may have been annoying and flippant, but Tseng had found that allowing the young man slight freedom to joke around kept his morale high and his performance impeccable. He truly was the fastest Turk they currently had, and he would figure out what was going on quickly and efficiently.

 

########

 

Shotgun barreled ahead without the slightest hesitation, even without Reno as backup yet, and Tseng remembered why she’d been hired. She was just as unflappable under pressure as Knife had been when she had first started which was a must for any new recruits without any actual combat experience. Shotgun had been an avid hunter at her home in Mideel, but she had never aimed her weapon at a human before.

 

Tseng was slightly unnerved how quickly she had adapted to firing on hostiles in Sector 8. She had never killed anyone before, but there were certainly going to be a few casualties with that shotgun she wielded. And she took to the situation as easily as if she had been hunting at home. Maybe some people weren’t affected in the same way Tseng had been.

 

Granted, his first kill had been one of his former comrades. He pulled his mind away from that thought and back to the mission.

 

With Shinra’s impeccable (and rather immoral) surveillance system, Tseng was able to track his Turks throughout the city and the rest of the world. The only problem was knowing which screens to look at once they went out of sight of the camera he was watching from, and Tseng was still getting used to handling the system. He didn’t know how Veld did it all the time. In short, he lost sight of Reno multiple times because the Turk was just too fast. He focused his efforts on guiding Shotgun through the city instead, since he figured Reno would be okay by himself.

 

Through a series of miracles, Shotgun managed to hold off a group of insurgents by herself until Reno finally arrived, keeping most of them from entering the Sector 8 reactor. Tseng could only guess that the enemy was looking to either shut it down, or destroy it. And destroying it would cause an unprecedented disaster. Reno stayed at the entrance to keep anyone else from entering, as the rookie raced through the reactor to stop the few that had gotten past. Tseng guided her through the hallways and catwalks to where he had spotted two men fiddling with a device--presumably a bomb--and Shotgun managed to take them out before they set the timer.

 

With that success, Tseng felt much better. They had avoided a disaster that could have taken out the entire sector in an explosion. And the rookie had done it all on her first day. He thanked every god that had blessed him with good judgment when selecting her.

 

However when she got back outside to join Reno and voiced her surprise over the phone, Tseng’s eyes jerked to the screen watching the reactor’s entrance. He heard Shotgun yell _“Reno!?”_ through the phone, and he switched cameras until he saw Reno on one knee in front of another enemy. They were surrounded by unconscious or otherwise incapacitated militants, but it seemed Reno had finally reached his limit. Why hadn’t he called for help!?

 

Through Shotgun’s phone, he heard Reno’s strained voice. _“Get out of here, Rookie! This guy is trouble!”_

 

After that, Shotgun hung up her phone and rushed forward. Tseng saw the man hit Reno with a merciless punch, then slam him into the ground where he finally lay motionless. If he had taken down Reno, Shotgun wouldn’t stand a chance, _shit--_

 

Tseng looked through his list once more. Nun was the only other Turk in Midgar at that moment, so he sent the young man as more backup. Then he called Veld for assistance, hoping Shotgun could hold out just a little longer.

 

########

 

Shotgun rushed out just as the man slammed his elbow into Reno’s back, sending him crumpling to the ground to lay there, motionless. Shotgun had had trouble with the guys that Reno had easily dispatched, and this guy had just taken out Reno without breaking a sweat, it looked like.

 

Oh, _fuck._

 

Well, she couldn’t just _leave_ him there, so she did her best to fend the man off so they could at least get out of there alive. Maybe she could occupy this guy so he wouldn’t go into the reactor to finish what his men had tried to do. Two Turks getting the shit kicked out of them was better than an entire sector and all its people being destroyed, right?

 

She couldn’t even get a good look at Reno because this guy was so fucking _fast,_ what the _fuck._ She assumed Reno was pretty messed up if he couldn’t move, though. She shot round after round at her opponent, but it was like he knew where she was going to aim before she did, and he calmly stepped aside of every single one. He didn’t even have a weapon!? If that was the case, maybe Reno wasn’t in mortal peril, but still--

 

The man was suddenly in front of her, _shit!_

 

“So you can fight a little. But it’s over, now.”

 

Shotgun only just managed to dodge his punch, but she was off balance, and he was coming again!

 

“I’ll make you regret ever having anything to do with Shinra!”

 

And then suddenly it felt like a fucking bowling ball had been shot right into her abdomen, and everything went black as every bit of air was forced out of her lungs. She didn’t even feel herself hit the ground, it hurt so much. She couldn’t breathe, fuck. She fought to suck in a breath as light returned to her vision slowly, her ears ringing.

 

Fuck. That guy didn’t have a weapon, so he wouldn’t kill them. Right?

 

Every moment felt like a godsdamn eternity where she couldn’t breathe. Since her diaphragm wasn’t going to work any time soon, she forced her eyes open and tried to listen to what was going on. Another guy had run up and yelled “Shears!” Something about being called to Junon? Fuhito. He’d mentioned that name. Don’t forget it, just try to remember those names, and play dead. Fuck. She couldn’t play dead because she had to breathe too badly. She finally sucked in a breath that felt like it had ripped a hole in her abdomen, and coughed painfully.

 

“Deal with these two, then meet us at the rendezvous point,” she heard the man called Shears say.

 

“Sir!”

 

Shears left. This random guy was going to kill both her and Reno if she didn’t do something.

 

There was no way that was happening. She dragged herself to her feet when the guy turned towards them, and grabbed her shotgun. She couldn’t see straight, and the guy was already pointing his gun at her and every fibre of her wanted to collapse and sleep, but she wasn’t dying today.

 

She pulled the trigger.

 

########

 

Tseng’s nerves were on fire until Shotgun finally got up and called back. He hadn’t been able to watch very much of what had happened on her end because he was guiding Nun at the same time, but her words at least confirmed that she was alive. With both the information she overheard, along with the information Nun had gathered on his way to the reactor, they had confirmed that the group’s name was AVALANCHE, and that their next move was to gather in Junon for something.

 

Luckily, Shotgun hadn’t sustained any serious injuries, and Reno’s injuries had been cured by a medic before Veld sent both him and Shotgun out again. They were the only two available, though Tseng was on standby to call anyone back should the situation escalate. Nun was sent back on his assignment in Midgar, and Two Guns was close by, but they were the only two that could realistically be called back in time to help with anything.

 

Veld had taken command of the AVALANCHE situation, since it was the most dire at the moment, and left Tseng to command every other mission going on. Tseng would have preferred to stay in command of his case, but he understood the importance of the situation required a veteran leader’s guidance. That, and he was glad he didn’t have to deal with the president’s illogical orders. The president was in danger, and yet he most likely would not change his plans, instead leaving Veld to make it work somehow.

 

He silently worried for his Turks. He told himself that although it was Shotgun’s first day on the job, and Reno was only twenty years old, that Veld would lead them to success. They would find the source of this new anti-Shinra group and take them out before they could become a problem.

 

########

 

After arriving in Junon in early afternoon, Shotgun and Reno raced to the president’s quarters and defended him from the AVALANCHE militants that invaded the building shortly after. The city was overrun with a small army that had come out of _nowhere,_ and the president was making the job of defending him almost impossible with his insistence on keeping his press conference time. Shotgun and Reno cleared the building, escorted the president through the _streets_ instead of in an armored vehicle (during which Reno was separated from them by AVALANCHE, presumably to make protecting the president more difficult), and then left the president in the hands of Shinra Security--a move that Rufus couldn’t believe had actually worked. The infantryman at the door relayed a message to the rookie Turk that “their boss” wanted her to guard the front entrance. The security detail was actually AVALANCHE in disguise, and Rufus couldn’t help but run his hand over his face in frustration. Veld was better than that. Tseng was better than that. And yet, their rookie Turk had fallen for the most obvious trap that could have gotten the president killed.

 

Rufus would be more upset at the rookie’s incompetence if he weren’t annoyed that it hadn’t actually succeeded fully.

 

He watched through the security system in the Shinra-owned building, knowing that there was little hope he had of getting access to the Turks’ surveillance system at a time like this. This allowed him to legally supervise the mission that Fuhito was conducting, and keep tabs on the president at the same time. He watched as the rookie made a rookie mistake, and then made it back to the conference room just in time to save the president. Miraculously. He deadpanned at his screen, frustration growing in his chest. Fuhito had said he had multiple backup plans, so Rufus sad impatiently for those plans to be enacted and succeed in what they had agreed upon.

 

He himself was sitting safely in his office on a conveniently-scheduled business trip out of the city, since Fuhito had been quite insistent that their first act as a public entity would be to take control of Junon’s cannon and aim it at Midgar. The president of Shinra Incorporated would be assassinated, the seat of his company would be destroyed, and AVALANCHE would usurp the throne of the World Leader in a single day. At the same time, the cannon could possibly cause massive damage to the entire city. Thousands of people would be killed.

 

Rufus felt like he should have fought against that plan a little harder. Fuhito was practical, but also relentless in his quest to destroy Shinra and reform the world. He had ideals that he knew exactly how he wanted to reach, and Rufus could do little to persuade him to use other methods--such as, say, not destroying an entire city. Fuhito’s main argument against him was that Midgar was a cesspool of leeches that destroyed more lives by simply being alive.

 

Rufus found he didn’t disagree with this. How many people in Midgar would be missed if it was blasted off the map? If it meant that the world could move forward, the sacrifice would be worth it. The people wouldn’t care, since they would all be dead. And Rufus would blame it all on the evil terrorist organization, AVALANCHE, and rally the people under his name. He told himself that while he watched Fuhito’s destructive plans unfold on the screens in front of him.

 

Rufus was surprised to see Fuhito himself on the screen, shortly after the lights went out on the conference room’s floor. The lights came back on and one of the Turks was gone, and Fuhito was standing there looking calm as ever. Rufus wanted to scream as the man just stood there talking to Reno instead of firing with the gun he had in his hand! What was he doing!?

 

The other Turk came back, and Reno took the president away to safety while the rookie kept Fuhito busy. To his credit, Fuhito took care of her without any trouble--something that unnerved Rufus a little. He was convinced that the rookie wouldn’t make it out of Junon alive at this rate, and that she was an exception to the Turks’ usually-infallible force. Fuhito was not as strong as Reno. So what was his plan!?

 

Finally, Rufus got a call on his secure line. He picked it up, watching Fuhito on the screen as he made his way through the halls, searching for the president. “What are you doing?” Rufus asked, not hiding his impatience.

 

_“Apologies, it seems they turned the power back on faster than I anticipated. I’ll require your assistance in finding the president’s current whereabouts.”_

 

Rufus gritted his teeth. “I’m only doing this since you’re too incompetent to handle it by yourself. I thought you had a foolproof plan.”

 

 _“My men are working tirelessly to secure the cannon site, they cannot be bothered by a trivial task such as this,”_ Fuhito answered, still infuriatingly calm.

 

“Trivial?” Rufus retorted. “That man is all that stands in the way of my complete control of Shinra’s resources, and thus _your_ control by association. You insult me by labeling it a trivial matter.”

 

_“Apologies, Mr. Shinra. I merely meant that I am all that is necessary to get the job done. Please be patient.”_

 

Rufus fumed. “I’ll send you his location shortly. How will you deal with the Turk that is guarding him? You can’t hope to match him.”

 

 _“When the president hears of his cannon being hijacked, he’ll send every available operative to reclaim it--leaving himself defenseless.”_ Rufus could hear the cool smile in Fuhito’s voice.

 

He wanted to cringe. “Don’t count on that working. I hope you have a backup plan.”

 

_“Always, Mr. Shinra.”_

 

Rufus hung up without another word. Hearing that cool, smooth, _patronizing_ tone of Fuhito’s made his skin crawl. He set to work on tracking Reno and the president through the building, and when they finally settled on a room to hide in Rufus acted.

 

If he weren’t already involved, he would have certainly learned of the danger his father was currently in. The current persona he used in front of his father suggested that he would be concerned, to a degree. He decided to call the room’s comm system and speak to his father while he sent the room’s location to Fuhito.

 

He relayed his concern, but promptly acted as though he was trying to hide it. After all, that is what the cool-headed Vice President would do in the face of turmoil. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t an act at all, and that Rufus was grateful to downplay his fake concern. He commented on the new rookie’s stellar performance on her first day of work (and tried not to vomit as he gave such praise) and made sure to remember her alias Reno gave him. He let his father know he would be monitoring the situation through the closed-circuit system that he was privy to as an executive, and left him to his devices once more.

 

Then he waited. Fuhito had no chance as long as Reno was in there. Unless that guy Shears was lurking around again. Fuhito had specified that only he was necessary, so Rufus figured Shears was out in the streets, helping to secure the cannon. Finally, the comm screen in the room where the president was hiding blinked on, and Veld’s face from his own headquarters spoke. Rufus didn’t have access to sound, but judging from the president’s reaction he assumed that they were talking about the cannon.

 

Reno didn’t want to believe that Fuhito’s stupidly presumptuous plan would work, but he knew his father. He waited as the silent conversation took place in front of him--Veld nodding in response to an order, and then the president turning to Reno and ordering something else. Then, Reno ran out of the room. Of course he did. The president was a fool, and it would mean his downfall.

 

He was completely alone.

 

It only took a moment after that, presumably once Fuhito came out after making sure he wouldn’t fun into Reno on his way out of the building. Rufus watched as the scientist-turned-field agent slipped into the room easily, and only had a moment to decide that he was going to watch the whole thing. If he was going to doom an entire city to ruin, he couldn’t shy away from the results of his actions. He had to watch this, and he had to watch the cannon fire.

 

Fuhito spoke a few words to the shocked president, then shot him square in the chest.

 

Fuhito was out of the room without a hesitating moment. It was finally over. Rufus couldn’t look away.

 

He was ecstatic.

 

It had all been too easy. No one had even bothered to wonder how AVALANCHE had found the president so quickly on every occasion. How did they know what hotel the president was staying at? Rufus had told them. How did they find the second building so quickly? Again, Rufus had given Fuhito the location ahead of time, giving him time to switch the guards with AVALANCHE members. Rufus’ only regret was that he hadn’t been able to pull the trigger himself, since he had to keep his traitorous alignment a secret in order to peacefully inherit control of the company.

 

Rufus was so absorbed in his elation that he didn’t notice Veld appear on the comm screen again, looking distraught. Rufus focused on the screen again, and noticed the president _still moving._

 

That stupid bastard Fuhito should have shot him in the face.

 

The president yelled something, but didn’t get up. Rufus gritted his teeth, his mind racing to predict what their next move was. Father was dying, and probably feeling very angry and vengeful about the entire situation. He had already sent every available Turk to reclaim the cannon. He had to escalate the situation to regain his power, and that meant sending the strongest man he had.

 

He was calling in Sephiroth.

 

Rufus fumed. Maybe this would be good for him. Father would lie in that room and die alone, and Sephiroth would come and take care of AVALANCHE. Then he could take control of the company like he had always planned, and not even have to worry about Fuhito anymore.

 

The waiting was killing him.

 

########

 

Only a few hours after Veld had taken control of the Junon situation, Tseng got a call from the commander stating that he was rushing to Junon himself to make sure the president would live. Because he had been shot.

 

Tseng’s anxiety skyrocketed again as he scrambled to relay Veld’s orders to Shotgun and Reno from far away in the Turk Headquarters, at the same time as he was running every other mission going on. Luckily, all other missions seemed to be going smoothly and he could focus on the most dire matter at hand. It would have been easier if he were there in Junon for the mission, but someone needed to stay at Headquarters when Veld wasn’t there.

 

The president was alive, and being kept stable by Junon’s medical facility. He had called Sephiroth back from a mission in the desert, but it was not guaranteed that the general could get to Junon in time to stop the attack on the cannon, since he didn’t have a chopper or other airship to get there. Veld was placing every hope of success on the shoulders of Reno and this new rookie.

 

Tseng thought back to his list of mistakes to learn from, and wondered if this situation would be added to it. He couldn’t think of anything they could have done differently. The president had ordered Reno to leave to go take back the cannon, and he couldn’t have disobeyed a direct order from the president. At the same time, there had been no way to stop the sudden influx of AVALANCHE militants without expecting an attack in the first place. The only way to prepare for something like that was to raise security in every Shinra-operated sector, prioritizing high-risk areas like the cannon and reactor sites. And if AVALANCHE somehow surveyed their security and came with even more troops than Shinra could handle, then the situation was _still_ doomed to fail.

 

There was no way to prevent this. Other than the president not being so rash, of course. But that wasn’t ever going to happen.

 

The only thing they could do was keep the situation from escalating further. Veld protected the president from further harm, the cannon’s security system had been activated to destroy anyone still inside the facility, and Reno was leading a company of Shinra infantrymen through the streets, taking on AVALANCHE’s small army directly.

 

The kid was only twenty, and he was a Turk being used for a direct assault. This could go as badly as the offensive in Wutai had, and there was no way to avoid it. In short, Tseng resorted to shutting down his emotions in favor of cold, hard logic to better manage the situation. He could lose his Turks, and he couldn’t react if it happened.

 

While Reno handled the situation outside, the rookie infiltrated the cannon facility through the underground passage, aiming to turn on the cannon’s lockdown sequence. Tseng hoped to every god that would listen that the one called Shears wasn’t in there, otherwise Shotgun wouldn’t leave the cannon alive and the mission would definitely fail. Shotgun could navigate the security system that was trying to kill her, but if Shears showed up she wouldn’t stand a chance.

 

There wasn’t much he could do to help Reno other than notify him if he was about to be flanked by the enemy, so he focused on helping Shotgun through the facility. She survived battles with the security golems, escaped through the trash room that had tried to crush her, and defeated the security simulation that had scanned her using a materia and created a clone of her abilities. Luckily the clone couldn’t recreate the Thunder materia she had on her, and she used that to destroy it.

 

Tseng almost panicked when he received an alert that the cannon’s override switch had been activated. The cannon would fire in one minute if Shotgun didn’t get in there and shut it off, and there was no telling how many AVALANCHE men were between her and the switch. He hoped and prayed for her to get through this alive, and almost collapsed from relief when the alert shut off in time. He called to congratulate her.

 

“Good job!” he almost cried, when she picked up.

 

 _“Huh?”_ Shotgun answered, obviously confused by something.

 

Tseng blinked. “You stopped the cannon, didn’t you?”

 

 _“What are you talking about?”_ Shotgun answered, sounding completely befuddled. _“I just got to the control room right now.”_

 

Tseng frowned. “It wasn’t you? It’s been shut off, though!” Was the countdown still happening, and the alert had somehow been intercepted so he would think it had been shut off?

 

 _“I do have something to report though, sir,”_ Shotgun went on. _“I came across a bunch of dead AVALANCHE men in the room before this one. It looked like a complete massacre in there, but there were slash marks all over. Nothing like the security system would have done to them.”_

 

Tseng’s mind raced. The override had somehow been shut off, and there were a number of enemies slashed to death right before the control room. The only person Tseng could think of that could make it past Shinra’s security that would _turn off_ the override, and simultaneously take out any enemy presence with giant _slash marks_ was Sephiroth. But, he was still coming back from the desert. They had sent a truck to go get him an hour before, so there was no way he could be there already, right?

 

But, there was no other explanation. Had Sephiroth _run there?_ His location was an hour drive away from Junon, and he had already arrived?

 

After confirming that the cannon had indeed been shut off, he instructed Shotgun to scout the area while he searched the facility for Sephiroth. If he was there, then he was so fast that Tseng hadn’t even seen him on any of the security footage. The situation seemed under control, miraculously, but Reno still hadn’t reported in and Tseng couldn’t find him on any of the street cameras. The streets of Junon looked like a literal battlefield littered with bodies. The members of AVALANCHE all fought to the death, so that they couldn’t be captured and interrogated. There were truly that many people willing to die to destroy Shinra? Were they really that awful that at least a small army wanted them dead?

 

Minutes later, he received a call from a rather winded-sounding Shotgun. _“Sir, Sephiroth is here and the situation is under control,”_ she said, panting.

 

“Are you alright?” Tseng asked, wondering what put her in such a state.

 

 _“I met AVALANCHE’s leader and she’s_ really _strong, sir,”_ Shotgun babbled. _“I didn’t stand a chance until Sephiroth got here. She blocked his attack, sir! The ground cracked under them and everything, then she escaped! Sephiroth walked up to me and said not to take her lightly because she’s incredibly strong, I think she could be a real problem if she can match up to Sephiroth, sir.”_

 

Tseng struggled to follow everything she was saying before interrupting her. “Shotgun, calm down! We’ll make the report once you meet back up with the commander. Are you okay?”

 

_“I think I’m bleeding out, sir.”_

 

Tseng’s mouth dropped open at the flippant comment. “Shotgun, get to a medical facility at once! I order you to not pass out in the street.”

 

 _“I’ll do my best, sir.”_ Shotgun hung up, leaving Tseng to fret over locating his Turks and making sure they reached safety.

 

########

 

Reno panted, looking around for any more gunmen that might be hiding in balconies. The ground at his feet was littered with bodies, most of them riddled with bullet holes from Shinra’s men he’d led there, but a good number sported nasty bruises and broken bones from his rod. He’d had to raise the shock level on his rod to lethal levels in order to take these persistent bastards down. They wouldn’t give up, even after he knocked them out once. They just got up again, until they were taken down for good.

 

Everyone around him was dead, unless there were a few Shinra infantrymen still alive but in critical condition. He was the only one left standing. No one else was coming up to kill him, or be killed.

 

It was finally over. Had Shotgun succeeded, or was Midgar about to be blown off the face of the Planet? There wasn’t anything he could do about that at the moment, so he decided to just report in, and let the commander know he wasn’t dead.

 

Veld told him that the mission was a success, and that he should regroup at the medical facility where the president was being treated. He acknowledged the order, then hung up.

 

_Time to go home, huh…_

 

########

 

AVALANCHE had a soldier that could match up to Sephiroth. She had stopped Sephiroth, the strongest man in the entire world, in his tracks. So Rufus’ plan to use Sephiroth to betray AVALANCHE had just been thrown out the window. He couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t turn on them if he didn’t have a soldier that could beat them. He had to keep working with Fuhito, even though the scientist had failed _spectacularly_ in _every_ single offensive of the day.

 

Rufus cursed under his breath, then called Fuhito.

 

His smooth voice made him cringe. _“I’m quite busy at the moment, Mr. Shinra.”_

 

“Quite busy failing spectacularly, as I can see!” Rufus admonished. “I’ve never fought a day in my life and even I could have hit him in the head. You couldn’t kill one man?”

 

 _“Rest assured, I have many backup plans,”_ Fuhito stated, patiently. _“Keep feeding me information, and I will implement them immediately.”_

 

“Your plan to announce AVALANCHE in a grand spectacle, to destroy Shinra in one fell swoop failed miserably, Fuhito,” Rufus growled. “How can I trust that you won’t fail again?”

 

 _“There were a few miscalculations, I will admit,”_ Fuhito relented. _“I did not consider that Sephiroth would be called, since he wouldn’t be able to make it back in time to make a difference. Apparently, he is faster than anyone can imagine.”_

 

“Apparently,” Rufus chided. “The world now knows AVALANCHE as the failed group of terrorists that tried to destroy an entire city. What are you going to do about that? Nobody will back you if they don’t share your radical ideals.”

 

_“We don’t need anyone to back us. We will stop the damage Shinra is causing even if the world is against us, Mr. Shinra. Or, are you saying your support is not enough?”_

 

Rufus fumed. “My support is more than enough. My concern is that you haven’t gotten any results, despite my support.”

 

_“Are you considering pulling your support, Mr. Shinra?”_

 

Rufus’ stomach dropped. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorted, his voice unflappable.

 

 _“We could easily find another benefactor, if that is indeed the case,”_ Fuhito added. _“Just so you understand your situation.”_

 

“I know full well what my situation is,” Rufus snapped. “I knew when I reached out to you, and my goals have not changed since then. I want to be more involved in your planning process, Fuhito, since you seem to be having trouble.”

 

_“Very well. I’m sure we can arrange meetings. I will contact you once my men have regrouped.”_

 

“You’d better.” Rufus hung up, his hand shaking.

 

If he weren’t in a dangerous situation before, he certainly was now. Sephiroth was no longer the unstoppable force that could be trusted to decimate any opponent. If Fuhito decided he didn’t need Rufus’ support any longer, he would go after Rufus immediately.

 

Not to mention that shoddy work on assassinating the president. He’d had the president alone, had the _perfect_ opportunity to make sure the president died. And yet, he’d shot only once and then left immediately.

 

Was Fuhito… doing this on purpose? Did he only comply with Rufus’ demand to kill the president to get his support? Perhaps Fuhito wanted the president alive for now because he was an incompetent leader that wouldn’t be able to compete against AVALANCHE for long, and he knew Rufus wouldn’t be able to do anything about a decision like that. Rufus had no way to enforce his demands other than to pull his funding. But then Fuhito would go after him... unless he made sure nobody else could get money to Fuhito.

 

This game wouldn’t be over for a long time. He was almost convinced that Fuhito meant to betray him. The only question was when. Until then, he had to play the part of the ignorant boy, blindly supporting a terrorist organization to get back at his father. His next move would be to continue monopolizing any support that AVALANCHE could possibly get, while passing it off as Shinra making those decisions out of his control so that Fuhito wouldn’t notice his treachery.

 

As long as he betrayed Fuhito first, everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I hella ship Reno with like everyone and I am doing my best to not show it on screen so I can keep that gen fic goodness. Keep it good and pure. Also no one wants to see an aroace try to explain attraction I HOPE IT WASN'T BAD LMAO I like Reno as both promiscuous and also reserved, I just picked somewhere in the middle for this fic.
> 
> Next chapter we just keep it going, I have no plans, just the Before Crisis videos on youtube, here we fuckin’ go. Time to have Rufus help ruin everyone's lives.
> 
> Also: AVALANCHE wanted to destroy Midgar with the Sister Ray, yeah? That cannon doesn't turn, but they aimed it at Midgar somehow? Idk man I’m just gonna say it magically works lmao fuck explaining that.
> 
> *******One last thing I NEED YOUR OPINIONS PLEASE: Hey so I know there are a lot of scenes with one person just sitting by themself and thinking about stuff? I am wondering how you feel about those scenes, since no dialogue happens and it’s all pretty much one person thinking about a situation that’s happening. I try to keep it dramatic, but at the same time, Tseng was sitting in an office for the entire last part of the chapter while everyone else got the action lmao. The game already shows everything else that was going on, so I wanted to show a different side from Tseng’s POV. So uh yeah criticism is welcome I guess? What did you think?
> 
> Next update might take a while, sorry! I’m graduating and moving and finding a job! I ain't dropping this fic tho not while it's just starting to get good. Ok I’m done byebye


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